A small Brent goose flew on alone
across your skies and past your doorway,
her fate unclear, her route unknown,
the small Brent goose flew on alone,
battered, exhausted and windblown.
Can this be Ireland? Is this Norway?
The small Brent goose flew on alone.
Here is the Solway and your soulway.
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem