Here's its shocking parallel.
In swift, or sand martin
Seen for a dead weight's plummet.
And thereround, thereafter
'Why, why, why' sounding.
For course, confounding.
Unprepared as unforeseen
Not blown, or storm-clouded
Thought, blithely aired, and of Thought
What out clear skies as well
Drops. Which dark sludge in
Despair's then sinking.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem