It never leaves her face
Which fermenting
Alike sweet bee's, busy
Who's hastening
Through prairie and field's smile
Of chamomile.
Nor less than constantly is
For sweet glee heard.
Akin calf, fleet of hoof
Far shade-lazed herd
Draws life from stream's ado
Bubbly pushed through.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem