IN LIVING MEMORIES OF KEATS, SHELLY AND WORDSWORTH.
Oh! My blind friend,
Thou art missing a great treasure.
Thou art not artless
But surely miss the beauty of the dales.
Oh! My deaf friend,
Thou art missing the real voices of life.
Thou art hearing the verses
But not listening to the whispering winds.
Hamsted Heath in thy case is a missing link,
Shelly to your heart is only an empty shell.
And the noble visions of Wordsworth
Oh! to you are less inspiring and waste.
Being romantic or not
Is thine individual perception.
To be in a desert or in the woods
Is thine individual choice.
But why disclaim all the richness of life
And be living as an orphan?
Oh! where doth thee stand, my friend
And be starving without a real heart?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem