I'm a lonely bird of the night.
I fly afar above the darkest clouds.
The owls and the bats are my closest clans.
The pigeons and the doves are birds not calm
And every being with them forms a restless crowd.
So, high I fly in the lightning sky
Humming down the thunderous sounds
And pray in vain for an endless night.
Rare and rarer are ones like I;
The dim of soul and the bright of spirit.
Lest I land my claw in the fire flames
And sing no more to the pouring rain,
So high I fly safely and vow to die;
To spread my wings and glide without end.
At last, I know I'm the oldest of the very rare
And the search in vain goes to worry my heart.
When, in life, will ever learn
That keeping worry only blinds my sight?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem