The music of the wind fills me with glee;
So soronous, so sweet in spring it sounds.
Sober the feeling which now beguiles me.
Still as stone, while my soul goes round and round
In silent circle 'bout so smooth a voice.
The birds are quiet at this very moment;
Perhaps listening, enthralled by such voice.
The trees rustle their leaves in excitement.
Who but god can hear and not pause to doubt,
A formless being with so great a power.
Be it man or mermaid, at this late hour,
At this hour, singing from nature's own mouth.
Gently all night, it teased me in it's sway.
Little by little, in the hands of May
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I would like to translate this poem