The virginal, living and lovely day
Will it fracture for us with a drunken wing-blow
This solid lost lake whose frost’s haunted below
By the transparent glacier of flights not made?
A swan from time past remembers it’s he
Magnificent yet freeing himself hopelessly
Through not having sung of a liveable country
In the radiant boredom of winter’s sterility.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem