In the torrid spring's turmoil
After my love, with her cerulean eyes
Pierced my heart with love,
And she abandoned me for another,
Whose marriage is forthcoming,
I walk the bog at night,
The sky alight with the stars that made me,
The carbon, nitrogen, molybdenum and all,
Starstuff ringing in my ears,
Starstuff forming my trenchant tears;
I could easily walk down into the watery grave
To save my life from eternal grief and sorrow:
But there still is tomorrow;
I peer at Orions' fuzzy belt
And turn softly home.
May she be happy as can be with him;
For I hold no prejudice,
For if she is satisfied it saves me the time,
Perhaps the time of my wretched life.
A nightbird calls; it's all I need to know,
It being nothing more than another star
Hidden in the bog,
Yet calling, calling my name
A sandy screech of terror
Reaching deeply into my gut
And then, in practice, avoiding my watery demise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Excellent poem Stan, thnx for sharing.