A crazy man that found a cup,
When all but dead of thirst,
Hardly dared to wet his mouth
Imagining, moon-accursed,
That another mouthful
And his beating heart would burst.
October last I found it too
But found it dry as bone,
And for that reason am I crazed
And my sleep is gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What an extraordinary imagination Yeats had! The crazy man is superstitious so refuses to drink; the poet's persona finds the cup dry and is similarly disturbed.This reminds me of Rpbert Frost's poem called Fire and Ice, where dissimilars have a similar effect.