Living's thrill. Nothing, I say
Nothing, thievish clawed, of it
Was, in leaping up for
Spared. And blameless the more!
Fruit, feather; tree and bird-attached!
When of that innocent age.
Yet to be let down by
Things held - do - break's teared sigh.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem