When this the person,
without even the bottom where light would I am, had form.
Escaping from that which cannot be rediscovered forever there it is breaking. Which from you it drips over the whole has it ever been the forest of the valley and the unlimited flood and the grove and the cave and Titan children.
Evermore in the sea which does not have the wide banks which are shaken.
Do not to go to bed thus it billows like clouds in the sky of the sea,
and the waves catch fire which it eagerly but with you it desires.
The independents and independents watch the water which dies - the snow of the lily which is kissed by rose done drifts by lazily.
And still the quiet water and to others it is cold silk is thin without the outerspread the cyspress along the lake knows no limit.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem