As darkness drops, I wonder what you have in store to say
when love or something like it darkens on every way.
What profit will you draw from a wild disease of the heart?
Then bathe you must in crow-black waters every single day.
So strange it sounds like despair itself speaks through me;
absurd if something out of the ordinary happens to stay.
This world no longer tunes in with a lover's way of life
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem