A neighbour finds a crane noble
who neither warns nor boasts.
Ripples, hindrance to scheme,
trigger the neighbour's dream
of visiting a lake, as needed,
but living in the sky
where nobility's required:
'An albatross, you know,
would flop around down here;
should always only fly.
I disdain the ripples.
I keep my thought on high.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I know that poem by Neilson. Good contrast between the albatross around someone's neck, and' I keep my thought on high'. I try to do that. Michael Walker.