The bed of our stretch of the beck was
Summer shallow and swift moving.
It thought it was a brook sometimes
A rocky pebbled frolic that
Chortled through two serf built arches
Hemmed in by trees full of rooks
Who rasped jokes to the geese and
Who laughed quite artlessly.
I babbled my way through a childhood there
With the beck beneath my window
Tickled so many sticklebacks
Knew the holes of various voles.
In my seventh summer softly set free
To explore as far as I could see
I entered my personal heaven
By setting off upstream.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
Delightful poem Linda.Childhood memories.I experienced them too. Sid xxx