Here, up off its rushed at fright
The will of a world's, blows
Hid in this tree's strong-armed height.
Safe, in what each bird knows.
Above all things, home, its lookout
Anxious-free, returned to
Again, choicest to chirp about.
And again. At peace. True!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem