Broken and world-weary, the poet cries
In the wounded night. All wonder and light
And desire have now faded from her eyes.
The moon's no longer golden but pale white.
She has kept things hidden for all these years,
But now everything is falling apart;
Such is the immense weight of mortal cares.
Who can sketch the vast sorrows of her heart?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem