True lies upon my mind,
Thy wonders, O Lord above...
Of all wonders, is a kind
That fearless soaring dove.
Free such a bird, none has yet seen
A flap, a second, and lo Behold!
She soars onwards to conquer
Her own way of life untold.
A chirping, tittering, sonorous song,
Merry, mellifluous, melodious, long
My lovely bird, its feathered plume,
Drives away my dreary gloom
I I sit astride and learn anew,
The causes of happiness, one among few
How sings the bird so, though its cage
Confines and holds it for all its age
Each day i hear another song,
I have a guide, all along
That though te world be good or bad,
Sing i must a happy song
If I had a winged pair
It'd be my solemn vow
I'd fly unseen to lands of yore
And rid mensfolk of troubled sore.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem