Tasted have I of success a spoonful,
Drunk pleasures from Alchemy's lakes,
Gorged for seconds in Poesy's valleys cool,
And realized my own mistakes.
Bards lifted me to their fancies and flights,
Plunged me down for lessons to learn,
Swam Pacific's tumults, touched Niagara's heights,
Toppled so could I discern-
That masked poets are but sinners in disguise,
The vineyard's not for them; Such urge
For men whose hearts are jewels of Turquoise,
Unpredicted rains with them merge.
Slow but steady has risen my kingdom,
Of labour shall I find my sum.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem