For all these verses I have paid a
price
that was not a pact with the Muse but I
calculated that a price be paid
and now that price is getting paid - and
how!
the song arises slow and funereal -
already!
already the blood flows the little blood
that remained to the last, it stains,
it calls, will call, for ever in
Justice.
But that be all.
Beyond, peering as through a needle, eyes
of a mysterious figure come
The end is here and the price is paid
Slow subsides the fugue, its job now done.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem