Classic Poem

O Swan,
My eyes watch you through the sallows,
Wounded by your cruel beauty …
O white splendour,
You have hurt me.

You do not heed us;
Our music crashes through the stillness;
Our shouts crack in the evening;
We gather round your pool:
The cygnets twist their swart heads
And their crimson beaks, and listen;
But you do not heed them;
You do not heed us.

Your yellow feet move
Through the clear, cold water;
Your belly rests upon your belly,
Soft, cool, caressing;
Your beak meets your beak;
Your necks repeat the figures
Two, three, eight and zero.

O twi-shape, O triple nature,
Bird, fish and serpent,
Do you plunge your head
To lose your torment?
Does your beauty tire you?

The wind moves the leaves to a sweet sound;
It bends the sedge and the sallows;
The tulips sway and the iris;
But it brings to you the peace of curdled waters,
Where you are no longer.