Now close the windows and hush all the fields:
If the trees must, let them silently toss;
No bird is singing now, and if there is,
Be it my loss.
It will be long ere the marshes resume,
I will be long ere the earliest bird:
So close the windows and not hear the wind,
But see all wind-stirred.
The poem describes how much is lost to the poet by the simple act of closing the window, but as so often when one loses one source of happiness, another remains. (Line six incidentally should read, ‘It will be long ere the earliest bird.’)
He had a genius mind.I have seen a strange joy visits me when I see wind-stirred branches without feeling th ewind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hush- the Master Poet is speaking and oh how his voice resonnates