A thousand faces I did spy
Peering at me from the sky
Faces from all age and race
Voice and colour, time and place.
A single song did fill the air
And like a bird it flew out clear
The tune was one I thought I knew
From when and where I had no clue
But for the words, I could not know
They tasted clean like pure snow
But no defines could corner them
a language of the seraphim.
But as it came it soon was gone
Behind the thunders of a storm
And never more, to see shall I,
Until the day, on which I die.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wonderfully penned...