I look up,
I look down,
I look up,
And I do frown.
People on the street,
Look up to the crown -
But where is it now?
Down, down, drowned.
A little lamb stares,
Grass in its mouth,
Unaware of the shout,
Its calmness, in doubt.
A dream once bright,
Like the blazing sun,
Now stolen for ever,
As the men on the run.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem