- - My angel - my stella - - 41
Children are playing in the garden,
They are playing in the meadow,
In the still stream and pleasant lea.
Children are playing on cloud above and beneath blue brine.
They are laughing and singing in day and night.
They are angels of my mind.
They are glittering source of happiness,
They are rapt in painless rejoicing in discreet playfulness.
One of them is a stoical star, the mind of my mind,
The orb of my soul,
She is delightful and unaffected by lofty complacency.
She is among and beyond the merriment.
Unconcerned, undesirous and uninterested she
takes a corner seat.
She is my stella, the heaven of this inglorious heart of mine.
The children are playing, moving and swaying,
They are sleeping in full quietness.
Only one of them is burning bright with empty mind,
She is my stella, my inward imposing Ruth,
The dream of my fanciful mind,
Pulsating heart's firm fruition.
She is my stella, the heaven of this inglorious heart of mine. The children are playing, moving and swaying, They are sleeping in full quietness. Only one of them is burning bright with empty mind, She is my stella, my inward imposing Ruth, The dream of my fanciful mind, Pulsating heart's firm fruition.
She is delightful and unaffected by lofty complacency. She is among and beyond the merriment. Unconcerned, undesirous and uninterested she takes a corner seat.
They are glittering source of happiness, They are rapt in painless rejoicing in discreet playfulness. One of them is a stoical star, the mind of my mind, The orb of my soul,
Children are playing in the garden, They are playing in the meadow, In the still stream and pleasant lea. Children are playing on cloud above and beneath blue brine. They are laughing and singing in day and night. They are angels of my mind.
She is my stella, my inward imposing Ruth, The dream of my fanciful mind, Pulsating heart's firm fruition.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Stella is an angel of poem...good poem