Better to see your cheek grown hollow,
Better to see your temple worn,
Than to forget to follow, follow,
After the sound of a silver horn.
Better to bind your brow with willow
And follow, follow until you die,
Than to sleep with your head on a golden pillow,
Nor lift it up when the hunt goes by.
Better to see your cheek grow sallow
And your hair grown gray, so soon, so soon,
Than to forget to hallo, hallo,
After the milk-white hounds of the moon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is good fool poetry. May I recommend to also read my translation of Finnish fire-bearer poet Uuno Kailas' The Fool. It is a piece on a similar note.