Whitsuntide fast approaches,
Another Bank holiday beckons.
Time for a long week-end in the pub
Or sitting in the garden whose grass
Needs cutting with dandelions like
Saucers. This is the new Pentecost,
People mooching around the shops
Looking for that something that they
Didn’t realise they wanted only to find
They had one when they got home.
People enjoying the Bank holiday
Not realizing what the holiday means.
Of family day trips to the seaside with
Children eating ice cream that spread
Around their face and noses.
A day to escape the daily grind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem