Toward her

Toward her
In sad idleness I forgot the lyre,
Imagination never flared up in dreams,
With the gifts of youth, my genius flew away,
And the heart slowly hlalele closed.
You again I called on the days of my youth,
You, flying under the shadow of silence,
The days of the Commonwealth, of love, of hope and gentle sadness,
When, poetry fan serene,
On the lyre happy I quietly sang
The excitement of love, the despondency of separation —
And the rumble oak grove mountains transferred
My pensive sounds...