How clumsy, we thought. Smiling, smirking;
Waterfowl's deranged flight-dash.
While content we'd be, gaping at it
Upcreaks aeronaut's - to crash!
You are liberal-minded; you are
Skies, blue - open unto all
Loopings of winged exhibitionist;
Shapes, frameworks, fantastical.
Yet to permit this, this rough draft
Of God's whimsier hand - this!
And not shudder, and work a squall!
Or just in your cloud-face dismiss.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem