To all those little people who knows not what they do;
Listen.
For all the Lilliputians
Must know something in their hearts
That calls out,
Even a tiny transmission
Ringing like a small bell.
So, angels,
Banish all other sounds.
Let them hear the song beating,
Steer them from the sunless pasts.
To be muddled sometimes is not the end-
Hear, my sweet dears,
The song of my heart.
5 Feb 07.
A very interesting little poem Grace, my take on it is this -- and please correct me if I'm wrong. The little people, petty people as it were could benefit by coming from the darkness to the light persuaded somehow possibly by the angels to listen to the sounds or as I like to say listen to the whispers. Though these so called little people may be in a confused state, it would benefit them greatly to listen to the hearfelt song. Whether I'm wrong or right, that's the way I see it and I love it very much, it's a beautiful poem. You are a marvelous poet Grace. I'm enjoying my early moring tremendously reading your work.---Melvina---
Grace, what a lovely little poem. Thanks for sharing it. David
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the melody would change and synchronizes to the mood of the host.yes, you're right and the song of your heart should be broadcast only to the one who is closer.keep it that way.nice piece.