O th doves...
Ye fly beautifully in th eyre
Flying as sylphlyk as th sylph
Flying 'til overring thy dimension
Flying na burden in thee
O th doves...
Ye fly as if na hidden þing in thy tales
How can ye do it?
How be thine unseen of thee?
How lucky ye are!
O th doves...
Ye knowen how I be hither
I be walking on a string na wing
I be walking lonely na rib
I be walking with th tym to passen th string
O th doves...
Ye have known how I be now
Truly, it can maken mee fallynge to dale
Th dale þat immureth mee na end
Th dale þat 'cometh a cottage of helle dwellers
O th doves...
Ye are lyk th sylph
I envi'd to thee
I envi'd to thy true nirvana
I want to feel what ye are, not thou art
O th doves...
Ye can fly overring thy dimension
Bringen mee passing th string
Bringen mee na fear feeling to fallen
Be gripp'd my body to rechen th last lyn of th string! ! !
- Andhy Shakespeare
MC0906-1612
Copyright © 2013 Andhy Shakespeare. All rights reserved
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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