Birthday Presents Poem by Robert Rorabeck
Birthday Presents
A joy that they taught themselves while they
Were folding airplanes,
And their mothers slept upon the other side of the
Canal-
Now how did they get here themselves, I wonder-
But the sugar cane burns,
And the song birds sing- they light up the candles
In the heads of the mine,
As the brave men go down to kill the witches
And dragons, and to dig you up birthday presents
That you pray they never find.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 2:49:59 PM # 1.0.0.1119
