Beneath the hanging branches
of the weeping willow tree.
Along the winding river
so very hard to see.
On a lazy summer day
floats a tiny white canoe.
The water lapping at it's
sides beats a soft tattoo.
Cradled in it's center
quite out of view.
Lay a small indian boy
sound asleep named Cuc'Koo.
What a way to spend a
sultry afternoon.
drifting into dreamland
in a tiny white canoe.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem