There's the special music - the glorious,
which calls for my songs and my cries.
Take off, for yourself, oratorios,
the roll of your drums and your brass.
Take, as your allies, them, notorious,
take easy - until your days' last…
And leave me with this music, glorious:
we have many things to discuss.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem