'Ah, William, we're weary of weather,'
said the sunflowers, shining with dew.
'Our traveling habits have tired us.
Can you give us a room with a view?'
They arranged themselves at the window
and counted the steps of the sun,
and they both took root in the carpet
where the topaz tortoises run.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nancy Willard wrote this in 1981. It refers to Wm. Blake.