Upon the dewy ground in silent lies
The wasting bones that carried life so fair,
Which timorous twilight to vision belies
On the mosses carpeting the resting lair.
A humbling feeling pervaded through my soul
Remembering his lyrics in the grove
When in an instant all wonderment stole,
Thus my heart pursued his song with love.
Alas! He is no more! Time has lost again
The joyfulness that did not want to give,
But to the wind a taciturn complain,
And in my thought did sojourn grief to live.
And then, I wonder a tear in the eye,
Was he the last warbler to carol the sky?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem