My grip upon the silken cord grows weak
I long as much to linger as to flee
(as if my ruined wings would carry me)
Have I been here a moment or a week?
The cordial poison courses through my limbs
I think it was a mighty drop to drink-
Woeful wound, but worth it, now, I think,
and sweeter finally than my wildest dreams.
How wide the web extends itself about!
each cable seeming fastened to a star
as one by one my tiny lamps go out
like the candles of a candelabra.
How sweet to sink in spite of all intention
into the shivering ecstasy of extinction.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Vivid imagery and cutting intensity as one is caught in the web of love -whether fly or man.