Water ripples the bank-
In the shadows of Echo's great mountain.
He lies prostrate over the edge,
Staring intensely into the pool.
From crimson dawn to violet dusk- he pines.
Vainly he reaches- to kiss, to caress;
But cursed he is for prideful disdain.
the image removes- panic bursts forth.
Vexed by his desire-
Knowing he will never press against warm breast.
Fretting distance,
Denying self-exile.
By moonlight dreams itch unconscious.
Clutching chest in grief,
Emanating groan from the deep-
Born of sorrow, paralysed youth.
With the sun comes attending nymph;
Bestowing gifts upon fragile figure-
But in nothing does he indulge.
He wretches, flagellates- consumed.
His trembling spirit-
Lovely face, now gaunt.
Till the nymphs' attending hour-
He is gone.
In his place- sweet ivory jonquil.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem