The glory of this Highlander’s imagination is of great expression
Inspiring a mind to drive itself completely to reflection
A watchman, for Master’s vineyard, against the unclean ravens
Scary to the black plumages for croaking cries, not of heaven
Surely he has the angel with the ink-horn by his side, as a guide
Absorbed of ancient poets, watch as he leads a magic carpet ride
Heart of fire, passion of steel, cast upon the brazen wall, for real
If crimes are committed, imprison his quill, for his run away zeal
Who can resist the golden flow of word on parchment-net, keen
Projected chords of sound awaken many from dreamscape scene
His stately view paints imaginative and inspiring demonstrations
In each line the Scarecrow hits a rhythmic dart of consolation
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem