Translation of the song Hope Is the Thing With Feathers artist Emily Dickinson

‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers—

Hope's alike a bird

That perches in the soul—

that's found be close to one's heart

And sings the tune without the words—

the heart beating rhythm she'd sing without asked questions

And never stops—at all—

and 'tis relentless ever

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—

In such splendour in the tempest her song be heard to one's soul

And sore must be the storm—

Yet such tumultous would be the tempest

That could abash the little Bird

Which would've discourage the little Bird

That kept so many warm—

that 'twas singin so warm for many.. a heart

I've heard it in the chillest land—

In my hearin 'twas resoundin' even when found was i in the chillest lands

And on the strangest Sea—

and whilst was i on foreign seas/waters

Yet, never, in Extremity,

nonetheless never in hard times

It asked a crumb—of Me.

would've ask for any kind of recognition from i