Pour the unhappiness out
From your too bitter heart,
Which grieving will not sweeten.
Poison grows in this dark.
It is in the water of tears
Its black blooms rise.
The magnificent cause of being,
The imagination, the one reality
In this imagined world
With him for whom no phantasy moves,
And you are pierced by a death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem