Trembled his hand over the chords of the violin
The Noble Artist to be genesis of the Sacred Notes
The Sacred Work and note after note
The haunted enchantment reached
To the white snow that melts as sacred milk
And as milk went down caves and coves
Hooting and reeling in the rioting.
For what Beauty does all this exceed?
What haunting is more haunted too?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem