Arrayed in a dress of shamrock green
she brightens up the woodland scene
and makes you dream of the Emerald Isle
where mountains stretch mile after mile
smiling, she adjusts her bonnet of white
and wiggles her hips for our delight
flaunting her charms on the woodland floor
until its time to close the door
she then folds her arms to make a pillow
and lays down her head as the wind starts to billow
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem