Where Will Be My Departure Place?
Amongst the fields? Amongst the bays?
For what the Dome of Fate still stays,
Close to these dark and worthless days?
The years will pass, in this old yard,
Will fly the orphaned sable wind,
From mountains blue and very far,
From countries which were in the mind.
Where burnt the fire of my life
Through pain and sorrow! Through alert!
Oh, poor my Soul! Yes, Thou was rife
With mountains ancient and desert! ..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem