Do not all charms fly
At the mere touch of
cold philosophy?

There was
an awful rainbow once
in heaven:

We know her woof, her texture;
she is given
In the dull catalogue
of common things.

Philosophy will
clip an angels wings
Conquer all mysteries by rule and line,
Empty the haunted air,
and gnomed mine...
Unweave a rainbow.

(the "translation" is in spirit, not to the letter)

Tota revela va vole volar,
a toca plu fria par filosofia.

Ier,
la arco iris, ia pare,
profunda e alta.

Ma oij,
nos pote tocar,
esta altia profunda,
con mano comun.

La conose da filosofia:
corti, cada alia de anjel,
concista, la inconosedia (con lege e linia),
vacui, la secreta vea da aira,
limpi, la popla poca da tera,
e des-teser, la arco iris