Away the startled pheasant flies,
With lazy movement of his wings.
Borne was my heart's lord from my eyes;--
What pain the separation brings!
The pheasant, though no more in view,
His cry, below, above, forth sends.
Alas! my princely lord, 'tis you--
Your absence, that my bosom rends.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem