THE Plovers fly and cry around,
Unguided, nestless, without bourn,
Wandering and impetuous,
Turning and flying to return.
These wild birds seen on Ireland's ground
I name upon Hawaiian beaches
Estrayents, they, of all lands' ends,
They have the oceans for their reaches.
My thoughts are like the Plovers' flight,
Unguided, nestless, without bourn,
Wandering and impetuous,
Turning and flying to return.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That last stanza describes thoughts so well, their flighty nature, their restless, unsettled nature