Once, I knew a fine song,
- It is true, believe me -
It was all of birds,
And I held them in a basket;
When I opened the wicket,
Heavens! They all flew away.
I cried, 'Come back, little thoughts!'
But they only laughed.
They flew on
Until they were as sand
Thrown between me and the sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very true with a poet and his thoughts which are so not frequent nor we can hold them. Beautiful