The wild goose is more of a cosmopolite than we
he breaks his fast in Canada, 
 takes a luncheon in the Ohio, 
and plumes himself for the night in a southern bayou.
 Even the bison, to some extent, 
 keeps pace with the seasons 
cropping the pastures of the Colorado only
 till a greener and sweeter grass awaits him 
by the Yellowstone.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    