Look not back,
Leave your being,
Hold my hand,
And fly.
I flew
Curling into the wind,
Plucking the clouds,
Hands poised, calm
Further into tranquil beholding
Of abysmal silence,
Gathering warmth
From her fairy feathers.
My person (, the cloak?)
Rest motionless, mourned
And when (they) cover me with flowers
I head for the stars.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful... touching