I believe I should like to be a cloud
Such a glorious, airy thing!
For I’d close to God in the sky rest,
Where daily, angels sing
If I should soon be a cloud,
I’d float and tease the birds
A puff of breath now, a teardrop then
Away they fly with scolding, squawking words
When I someday will be a cloud,
Living with the blest,
I’ll be the far off, peach one, there
Smaller than all the rest
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I would like to translate this poem