The black-eyed Scholar
Now
Found the new manuscript.
With hands feverish
Through all the night
He pored and pored
And turned and turned
Through a dim light
Through the whole night.
Discovery was made
Yes, for discovery was made
Of a new work
That night.
Tired the Scholar rose in the very
First lights of Dawn
And fell
But Dawn coming through the
Windows old
Rose him again.
For the black eyed Scholar
Now he made discovery
The black-eyed Scholar
Now
Found the new manuscript.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem