O shade dark that lurks idly by
Mask I pray, mask- to slain her
Aye, sweet girl that hates thee
Art, O art ye roar of gust out vain
Heed, to murder this wail that rears
Art, art for this girl hated thee
Ye tongue of sun- come O come
Slip, to drink this blood- hasten
Tis girl, roses love than thee
O loveless mizzles lone in sky
To romance this blood- tide
A girl- likes that sate thy thirst- hurry!
And O earth- wake, wake-
A meal I brought thee
Tis girl, that tramples over ye
Come, to mourn ye people-
My lady is lost-
A beauty again has perished!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem