The little letters dance across the page
Flaunt and retire, and trick the tired eyes
Sick of the strain, the glaring light, I rise
Yawning and stretching, full of empty rage
At the dull maunderings of a long dead sage
Fling up the windows, fling aside his lies
Choosing to breathe, not stifle and be wise
And let the air pour in upon my cage
The breeze blows cool and there are stars and stars
Beyond the dark, soft masses of the elms
That whisper things in windy tones and light
They seem to wheel for dim, celestial wars
And I - I hear the clash of silver helms
Ring icy-clear from the far deeps of night
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
really funny......grt idea.......i liked d rhymes very much...kp writting young poet....god bless u