It seems as though, upon a vivid wing,
Specific fortunes did wend their mottled way
In tumbling credence with a hopeful heart.
By the harmonies of cloudy winds, sing
Sprites and gaudy phantasies, ’neath a day
Which lucidly gleams and does cheerfully dart.
A magic strike which goes mistrusted. A ring
Of dazzling, rolling lure. I wonder and lay
Blissfully awake, clothed in night, and part
My thoughts to think, how humbling would it be
To kiss an Angel who has so ensnared me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem