Lonely on a crab tree top
speckled breast and grey-blue head,
against the melting snow.
Have you lost your way....?
You are welcome to round red fruits,
pears I threw from the bedroom window.
Where are your friends, out in the fields?
Why not tell them of your luck...
sultanas on the lawn at eight
just as the sun was rising,
yew and ivy through frosty nights,
a bath to bathe or drink.
When you return to northern lands
tell your mates and families
there's a welcome waiting here
no matter what the weather.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem