If your mouth does not say anything
to become of these priceless;
If I have to be understood,
Nor your tears, your smile;
If in your voice, so in your face,
Do longer lives the fire that drives me;
If the noble heart of you
Must know my most secret;
If your sad letter is signed,
if the guardians of an ancient tomb
leave their indignant priestess
Nightlife, carrying his torch;
The language of my thought,
That you know that you support,
Will never be imposed
by other accents than yours.
Rather perish my memory
and my beautiful dream ambitious!
My genius was in your glory;
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem