On a cold harmattan night
After a long day's toil
Heavy at heart was I
Until I heard the sweet voices
A beautiful serenade it was
I stood motionless
Absorbed deeply
In the glorious melody
I could feel my hairs stand
As I felt some sort of upliftment
Like I was caught in a trance
That heralded a light whispering zephyr
Leading me on with each altitude climbed
The glorious voices grew louder
They knew no bounds
As they filled the atmosphere
With incensed comfort
Soothed my troubled soul
With much excitement
I knelt in thanksgiving
For I had drunk from this reviving spring
And as I attempted to sing
No sound proceeded forth
The heavenly voices began fading
I myself receding
Into the banks of the earth
Into my vessel
Filled with serenity
Each time I remember this
I feel exhilarated
For this great gift
Greater than any other
O! How I yearn
To hear the glorious voices once more
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A glorious poem, Kubiat. Thanks for sharing.