A bird in the skies
a lark in the hand
and to wit the voices
of nightingales to blend
how the waters spring
up to the heavens
but reach not
but touch not
And this all for it be
the night:
and this for all it be
star-light
the stars wanton be
along this path of poesy
this the Milky Way
of verse full all the way.
amidst the rushes
birds random here
and there hop and dance
two bird loves in a trance.
the centuries pass
the centuries pass
and the verse that in oblivion was
sudden sprouted green and
great and sung
I chant, I sing, I versify
better than nightingales I
these only sing melodious
in the night; I surpass them.
A cup of venom golden lay
To trap me; but I drank
and drank with will
I fell and lay still
I will sing not then
Nor will chant; I leave
the nightingales my work to do
and in the nights sing too.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem