When over us the cross its shadow throws,
Our frames enshrouded in the mould of night,
Thy body shall reflower in lily white,
And from my flesh be born the ensanguined rose.
And Death divine, thy verse in music knows,
With silence and oblivion to his flight,
In heavens shall show us, lulled with gentle might,
Echanted route where strange, new stars repose.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem