Just a thatched hut by the stream, 
But it stays long in my lingering dream.
A kampong house that gazed upon the sea, 
Obscured by blossoms and bushes under a tree.
Along the old sandy beach at night, 
I strolled in solitude with silent feet, 
And saw new houses, flashing in floodlight, 
Mock a lost kampong on a dim and dusty street.
And men will dream, and dream and forever dream, 
Of the carefree kampong and its old time grace.
Some grew weary, watching the towering city gleam; 
Seek the kampong magic in the old kampong place.                
 
                    This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    