So long as the child preferred to me such and such a
player of the flute or singer to the zither,
little I cared
that she loved such and such a player of the flute or
scratcher of the zither.
By the cross-roads I have fallen struck, struck by the
thrust of a sword.
Whose? player of flute or scratcher of zither?
How long the night is to be so slow in dying.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem