While the West wind blows so warm
In the dark before the dawn
Song birds sleep with heads beneath
Their wings.
Running on the heath
The field mouse and the shrew seek food.
These tiny creatures all imbued
With small, sharp thoughts that swiftly run
Through their bright minds until the Sun
Rises through a bank of cloud.
Sunrise wakes the birds, and loud
Their song fills all the air around
And bathes the earth in glorious sound.
This is splendid. I don't remember what you call this unusual style of rhyming or alliteration- but I always enjoy it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A wonderful image of an imageless thing. Thanks