When others play their lyres,
A bit of your tone I hear,
when You from Your garret sing,
I with my drooping feeling find wings,
And my soul awakens with celestial fire.
When others call me by my name,
I respond, go to them, hear their word,
With heavy a heart I return, and remake,
But when Your grace call my name,
I at once become a possessed bard.
When the dreary drudgery,
And the suits of crime and flattery,
Unbend, and lay pall on my, poor spirit,
I don't question, whether those I merit,
But I feel, behind all of them, -You came,
To impress me, to rise above good and evil game.
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I would like to translate this poem