O I often dream of an idyllic cottage
Deep in the woods: Where I could take time to compose
A plethora of poems. Fragrant with aged herbage,
It would be a perfect blend of wood and stone;
Solid enough to withstand any raging storm.
It would be surrounded by precious rose gardens.
And it would contain a small hearth to keep me warm;
In bleakest winter when fingers are frost bitten.
Each season would provide me with inspiration.
My little cottage in the woods, with its delights
Would endlessley feed my potent imagination;
Whether, in times drained by darkness, or bathed in light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem