* *
I confess: I think sometimes,
As we with you are revived
From the ancient stories, wherein a heroes
Are punished to die of the love.
The love tighten by its seine,
It burns by the fire the one who loves.
The beloved swan does not live long,
Only the vicious raven lives a three centuries.
Become old to the swan is not destined,
But he loving lives its short life,
And, weeping by the swan song,
He is happier a raven still away,
At least a three centuries given to the raven
To live in this world, cherished by a carrion.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem