Like a new muse to inspire the poet's song of verse,
A muse to lift us out of the abyss of melancholia into euphoria,
To hear in the verdant forest the song of water, witness the dance of light.
Young and bright like a pretty flower growing in the fields of time,
Like Aurora of the Dawn, looks she possesses like an angel.
So the poet will drink from the fountain of poesy,
Like tasting an effervescent wine,
his ''joie de vivre'' it revives, a connoissier of sorts he's becoming,
inebriated with this passion of verse,
syntax falling over syntax,
in a dizzy spell of poetic mutations,
elevated to skydom in a sempiturnal state.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem