Robert Burns
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Let me salute you
On this day of your birth,
You are ploughman poet,
I do admit Ayrshire,
Your birthplace,
Really fortunate.
1759 the year,
Poverty could not
Touch you dear.
But you are rich
With everything.
A Red, Red Rose,
A fond kiss,
My hearts in the High lands,
A dream, Ton O' Shanter,
And with so many poems,
You are the great writer.
Dear poet, I salute you
Again and again for all that.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş