Past rustic towns and seas
I've traced you to your
final resting place, my brother,
rehearsing in my heart the prayer
which I must say and you hear
because of what we are,
in order to be to be released.
Moist with tears and travel-worn
but bearing all things due
I come to bid you, brother,
now and forever, hail and farewell!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem