Lord, I have uplifted my lute,
And struck a chord,
But the earth, the earth was unmindful.
The music of my lay became
A part of the day and was not heard.
I have drunk the draughts of many cups
Of man's wisdoms, finding bitterness,
Aye, and folly. I have learned that men
Know naught that unfolds my soul.
Lo, it is like an unbursted bud- -
Ever do I feel its chafing for the sun!
I have lost that lay which I might have sung,
But behold me, singing within my heart
A song triunmphant, for my faith will not die!
Oh, the sun I am awaiting shall burst
The bud of my soul, and I yet
Shall spread forth unto His magnitude,
Letting my petals fall upon Earth,
While the perfume of my honey
Eludes the dross of day!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem