O! As nearly all mortal beings,
I’ve tasten already the silence of night –
Sometimes broken, but never by the sounds of mine.
O! I’ve tasten all of its flavours;
Like the silence stuck in other’s empty home –
But after all, the emptiness of my heart gongs even terribly more.
Alas! Why am I tasting like a poet;
With a beating and feeling heart on every gustatory buds –
Who could understand the silence more, than a mute poet after love?
O! I’ve not even tasten all its flavours;
Thou, the old naive words of ours still re-animate my mind –
Still, with silenced tongue and heart, what I barely believe that I’m still alive.
O! We’re not even nearly mortal beings;
No silence can muzzle my written words in the fate’s puzzle –
Even if my tongue is cut off and my buds are burnt, my love is immortal – written.