My falcon comes not back again
To sit upon my wrist with hooded eye
Yielding first his fierce-sought prize
Are these times so easily forgotten?
But still I hope...as so far away he goes
Some alien land with sunny slopes
His swooping shadow knows
Some bright-lit skies with fresh winds laced
My falcon forever flies
Alas how desolate the heart
That scans these vacant skies
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
what a falcon you got there isabelle.