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Sky! You secretly nourish mere darkness that will devour you!
O! Of theft, O! You darkness
of sale,
of hyenas, of owls,
                of conspirators,

What says this nightingale?
Well-formed downs of tear cover the skies,
Undulating like waves that billow within the heart 
towards the queen-moon of loveliness.

In the full-moon splendor 
surging, swelling, furrowing deep 
rise waves that break along 
the shores of language.

I become water, and mingle
with my country’s dust;
I drop down weeping ever

That goat is eating 
Real grass!
We here have a different 
Foodstuff,

A parrot called a bird, a twice-born child,
By Fate into an iron cage beguiled,
I find, O God, nor peace nor quiet rest,
​For even in a dream I lie oppressed.

Opening eyes closed long in meditation,
noticing vines wave their blossoms delightfully in the breeze,
feigning playful forgetfulness with “Who are you, O say?”

Twang the sinews of the heart,
seducing it with a fresh melody,
You with the strings in your hands,
O destroyer of ignorance.

The night is cold
The bird will rest in this nest
At first light it will fly away!

Now softly spreads a rosy sheen
as evening on light feet 
alights on the sunset peak,