1. We have landed on the shore of poetry and art
What joys lie here?

2. Under the stars and dawns
Forever watchful, observing

3. A life that does not end with its misfortunes
The deluded see only its splendor

4. While the artist lives under its gloom
He watches the wretched in the darkness of life and weeps for them a foolish weeping

5. And composes melodies to mourn their afflictions and weep over the sorrowful existence
Often the sleepless poet remains confused

6. The darkness brings ease to a poet’s sorrows
He sees in life only an existence

7. Shadowed by the hand of cruel misfortune
He never sees except the theater of tragedy

8. Between tears and sighs
And a curtain of gloom appears

9. Every day over a corpse and a newborn
And depression walks over all forms of existence

10. Grief, misery and tears visible in every eye
And an age that deceives the living

11. Only the sorrowful heart encounters life
Perplexed by the worries of life

12. Whenever a miserable poet sheds
The tears of sorrow over tragedy

13. And when the ice withers the glory of almond trees
Profound sorrow flows over it

14. And when the nightingales die of thirst
The tears of elegy well in his eyelashes

15. So he is a heart molded from the softness of flowers
And an eye purified with tears

16. And a sensitive life whose secret
None knows but the gifted poet

17. It is a thirsty lifetime, squeezed
Like nerves, passing like misfortune

18. In silence where no sound is heard
Except the dripping under the nights

19. Except the cooing of doves on a desolate mountain
Or the song of a forsaken nightingale

20. And the rustling of trees in the grip of the wind
And the sound of thunder in the darkness

21. Except the whispers of ghosts filling the gloom of the poet
In his long dreary night

22. He receives poems from them and lives
Forever in the fever of sorrow and pallor

23. O my tortured poet what is it?
Is this how life is spent miserably?

24. You live pale-faced and tired for divine inspiration
Having sold your days for poetry

25. And neglected life, heart and eye
And devoted your youth and love to art

26. To live wounded
It does not bother you that sorrows accompany you

27. As long as you are inspired and vocal
You are not satisfied except with its singing

28. Even if it is heard as agony and lament
Life does not give the poet glory

29. Unless he tastes the worries of deprivation
Souls cannot rise unless

30. Purified by the meaning of tears and sighs
So when sorrow pales the poet’s cheek

31. Or he passes a night of anguish
And when the claw of grief lacerates his heart

32. And his life is straitened by its pain
Life addresses him: My inspired poet, O son of pallor and pain

33. The shining stars cannot cast a spell unless the curtain of darkness falls
And he who gathers flowers tramples thorns, my poet, and walks on them

34. And he who loves nature is not burdened by the silence of gloom
So endure as much sorrow as you can

35. For without sorrows, there would be nothing
Bury the light in your eyelids, dead,

36. And bring poetry to life from your heart
Sing this torment, describe for people what makes the poet's heart weep

37. Describe for them how he spends his life confused and lives with his crushing sorrow
Describe that struggle - the struggle of thought and heart - in the darkness of life

38. Whenever luxury conceals the heart’s screams, obstinate thought clamors
For in his life they are a fountain of sorrows

39. That makes life a gloomy horizon
And they are the two rebels that must

40. Make their voices heard, even if in blood and flames
It is the charter of thought to sing poetry

41. Even if it remains sad
And its aspiration is to rise to the highest world

42. And cast itself on the path to death
So it is a free horizon that wants life of the mind

43. Away from feeling
And it is indifferent whether the poet protests

44. Or misfortunes are cruel to him
Are not gauntness, pain and misery

45. The source of poetry and melodies?
Or does life not satisfy the poet

46. With melody in deprivation?
Why then does the heart stir up struggle? Why?

47. Why is life desolate and thought miserable?
Thus the minds cry out to the poet at night, so if dawn comes

48. And he sees the shepherd boy driving thirsty sheep
The heart will cry where is my love? Where is my joy?

49. Why do I remain forever captive?
I will never sacrifice my joys

50. And live with that miserable broken man
You compose your poetry from my weeping

51. From me wishes, from me yearning
From my blood these epics, so have mercy on me

52. I am the passionate, wretched, infatuated lover
Set me free, let me taste the joy of love

53. Maybe I can escape this misery
What is the song of poetry my tired poet?

54. If life is fleeting, the anthem cannot quench your thirst
Nor a melody slake you

55. Do not say tomorrow I will regret
What has passed, despair and sorrow

56. Under the weight of earth and in the solitude of death
This anthem will fade and perish

57. So when your tune you composed in agony and sorrow
Sings for the gentle

58. And when you who filled the world with beauty die thirsty and bleak
And earth wears away

59. What remains of you, flesh and bone
Then what? Tomorrow they will say

60. There was once a youth among us, whom wasting took
We saw nothing of him but a ghost of a human

61. We lost, chosen by fate
They will say a poet whose glory

62. Faded and lived lonely
Forever watching space, catching stars

63. Or harvesting the dreary darkness
Eyeing flowers from afar, with the dreams of a passionate inamorato in his eyes

64. Still, content with the excuse of his love
Satisfied with scents and colors

65. You lonely poet, enough solitude in our life and sullenness
It is enough now that you have surrendered to the voice of reason

66. Have mercy on your deprived youth
And the day passes while the miserable poet

67. Is confused between the jaws of his pain
Between the whispers of the two voices he lives gloomily

68. Conversing with his specters and calling them
So if his heart swells with feelings of despair

69. He unleashes his sorrows in poetry
Taking refuge in shepherds to whom he unloads

70. What he suffers of great agony
Pouring his soul into every line, sighing

71. From his heart the melodies
Pleased with gauntness and illness out of love

72. For Apollo, enduring what has passed
Every verse of his poetry costs him

73. Emaciation, shivering, and sickness
For in his tune he melts his youth

74. And wastes his prime and dreams
Then what? Soon the storm will roar

75. And the beautiful flower will fade
And the light on high will fade

76. And the shining star will plummet
And radiance will disappear into a grave’s night

77. Where only rain will weep
And none will mourn him except those who loved his youth

78. And remnants of lyres and poems
That poet who used to live

79. Weeping for every weeping soul
That noble sympathetic to sorrows

80. Cast onto thorns
The days have abandoned him in his deserted grave

81. Under winds and darkness
Where no sighs a heart emits

82. Nor tears for tragedy
Thus the life of the inspired, delicate poet passes in torment and is forgotten

83. Thus he fills existence with beauty
And tastes anguish, cup after cup

84. So sail away my ship from the world of poets
And leave them to that intense yearning between sighs and afflictions

85. And sail the sea of life as we used to
And cast anchor on every coast

86. Maybe O ship we will find radiance
Shining after the deadly darkness