Lament of an Icarus
Those men who cuddle whores for love
Are sated by their darlings' charms,
But I have only tired arms
From having hugged the clouds above.
Thanks to the stars, the matchless ones
That flame within the depths of skies,
All I can see with burnt-out eyes
Are dark remembrances of suns.
In vain I've tried to find the heart
Of space, to venture deeper, higher;
Under who knows what eye of fire
My weary wings will break apart;
And burned by love of beauty, I
Will not achieve my poignant wish,
To give my name to the abyss,
The tomb below, to which I fly.
Přeložil James McGowan
