The Dawn-inspired seas
the wanton waked breeze
the lark in the tall sky
the trees on the hill's high
the cliff that looks the sea
as giddying as free
in this short ditty came
ghosts, shrouds without a name
for in their present state
they forwent their names of late:
the chapel opens its doors
the philosopher utters his lore
and in this little ditty
rare martens sing all merry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem