I HAVE a harp of many strings
But two are enough for me:
One is for love and one for death;
And what would the third one be?
Before I learn another note
I may forget and go,
So while my hand is light and sure
I play on the strings I know.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
With the death of a daughter, a husband who then soon leaves her for the dangers of combat, and then his death too, it may not be too much to think the third string is memory of their married life.