Schubert, torch-bearer at Beethoven’s funeral,
pursuer of music and of his own sorrow;
Franz Schubert drank
the tears of the hapless woman
even from the very cup of her white hands
and his body wasted away;
alas, his life and years wasted away;
like the charmed knight
eaten by Keats’ La Belle Dame sans Merci,
Schubert too was eaten away…
and so Schubert came to understand his music
and his sorrow
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem