Troubadour of silence; din
That fades, little by little,
Near to the zero.
Waters that mix changing
Colors, fountain upon fountain
Rising; earth trembling;
Mixture of joys, woes, fear;
The coming of Piper be near!
I hear in the distance; doors
Are opening; the troupe forming.
Away!
Away
With
Work
He
Said
Leave
Your
Study
Desks
Cut
The
Chains
Off
Them
For
A
While
And
In
His look
There
Was
A marked
Guile
And
Cunning
Bright
And
Naked.
Troubadour of silence; din
That fades, little by little,
Near to the zero.
Waters that mix changing
Colors, fountain upon fountain
Rising; earth trembling;
Mixture of joys, woes, fear;
The coming of Piper be near!
I hear in the distance; doors
Are opening; the troupe forming.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem