There is a kind of distant music,
Sometimes rings throughout one's being;
As if the moon had found it's voice,
As if the stars begun to sing.
There is a humming, supernatural
That surrounds with floating notes;
As if the angel's joy contagious
Found it's way, to angel's throats.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh, now this is good, so good. I believe I've heard -faintly- here and there, now and then, the singing of which you here speak; thanks for putting it into words.