by Anonymous

    My dress is silent when I tread the ground

    Or stay at home or stir upon the waters.

    Sometimes my trappings and the lofty air

    Raise me above the dwelling-place of men，

    And then the power of clouds carries me far

    Above the people； and my ornaments

    Loudly resound， send forth a melody

    And clearly sing， when I am not in touch

    With earth or water， but a flying spirit.