A translation in verse . . . seems to me something absurd, impossible.
Men like me are impossible until the day when they become necessary.
Where the telescope ends the microscope begins, and which has the wider vision?
A language does not become fixed. The human intellect is always on the march, or, if you prefer, in movement, and languages with it.
If people did not love one another, I really don't see what use there would be in having any spring.
To give thanks in solitude is enough. Thanksgiving has wings and goes where it must go. Your prayer knows much more about it than you do.