It is the poet's duty
To describe ineffable beauty
With his insufficient palette of grey words,
But no language can be fair
To the clouds within the air,
Or the music of the ever joyous birds.
He may but hope to convey
What he means, though he may say
A meaningful succession of strange sounds,
But he cannot make to seem
A tripping, gushing stream,
Or the echoes with which earth and heaven resounds.
(Branton, Thursday,6th April,2006.)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem