Though I come from a land in the North Sea
Where I do live is always home to me
My life journey has me far south of my birthplace
Where nowadays mine might be a stranger's face
A stranger where my life's journey began
Where from a boy I grew into a man
Some twenty four years and Springs have gone by
Since I last heard the lark sing in an Irish sky
The past is now a fading memory
And time ticks on it did not wait for me
And though the friends of my youth I've not seen for many a day
The present is all that does matter anyway
I live far south of the silver tongued rill
That flows to the river from the high field by the hill.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem