No minstrel sings the songs and lays
As happened in the ancient days
And in the palace halls roam
Mute and bleak faced ghosts and shrouds:
Ah ancient times! And ancient days!
Histories changes, humans, and ways.
The violin that played lies on the floor
As does the lute the harp and the sweet
Flute that mellowed many ancient hearts:
But that was ancient, that was
Long, long ago: the centuries fly
Destiny will cover with forgetfulness
Not always with a full success
But often buries in ignominy
So many as their destiny.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem