(with apologies to A. E. Housman)
While bells at twilight toll
this day like usual, I am without a soul;
soon in the evening I myself will be gone
whispering for the night to come on.
I cannot blame the bright light
nor your whispering back in the night;
though even if we in this night were still
before we part I would catch a chill.
[Reference: XVII “Bells in the tower at evening toll” by A. E. Housman.]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem