You may have heard a nightingale sing
But failed to locate that glorious songbird,
Yet does not his song sheer delight bring
Though in our vision the bird never appeared?
Now, let me speak about the bard
Who colours our imagination from the far beyond
Though he may have exited the stage after playing his cards
Yet from the past, his cascading verses resound.
But Shakespeare! will your verses be treasured
In a world scurrying in hurriedness and haste?
Or will not your songs be lost unheard
In a world of ever-changing taste?
No, my fears are unfounded, for your verses have such grace
That its beauty and splendour shall always charm the human race.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem