The Dying Lover Poem by Gustave Kahn
The Dying Lover
So long as the child preferred to me such and such a
player of the flute or singer to the zither,
little I cared
that she loved such and such a player of the flute or
scratcher of the zither.
By the cross-roads I have fallen struck, struck by the
thrust of a sword.
Whose? player of flute or scratcher of zither?
How long the night is to be so slow in dying.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 2:36:26 PM # 1.0.0.1119
