Three trees of nightingales
I came to them in an evening walk:
And though my heart heavy and sad
Passed under the boughs
And though not all nightingales sang simultaneously
I was haunted that day by their melody
And though sad were he refrains of the birds
My heart was warmed
My heart was cheered
And my senses relaxed their consciousness
That I swooned in the arms of the beauty of their sub-consciousness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem