Tick-tock, the bird in the clock is running out of time
The Mouse is dead His severed head will always hear the chime
Time is short and space contort the end begun again
When all begun though there was none—why have Thou no beginning?
Temporal shame your uneven rhythm, your beat shall soon be ending
Coo-coo bird now lay to rest your grieving song of pain
Your time is come, the end is nigh, to heaven He shall send
Though for the Mouse, upon that House, your soul forever lie
Protector of both bird and clock, though clock has stopped its ticking,
You know the rhythm very well, though bird and clock forgetting
By you great Mouse, within your House, though time has had its end
Life can begin its ticking rhythm only after the clock will die
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem