When I heard thy beckoning song, my eyes
Saw signs of things to be done. Things your mind's
Eyes made different and sweet, and so I
learnt the songs rhythm, letting it come to me
Again and again till I knew each pause
And beat and enjoyed the patterns of an idea
Filled song reminding me of my own dreams
I was a patient dog yet not hungry
Of meat. I followed thy path even on
Sunny days, I watched thy hand master thy
Every tool, I watched some more till I
Was good and they wore me beads and chanted my
Name, yet behind their praise I heard your voice
Saying honour should follow gray hair, and gentle
Spirit should never die. I heard thee till
TThou turned to dust and then I began the
Beckoning song preserving the circle of
Life and your dream since our problems began
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem