When, in the night, I wait for her, impatient, Life seems to me, as hanging by a thread. What just means liberty, or youth, or approbation, When compared with the gentle piper's tread? And she came in, threw out the mantle's edges, Declined to me with a sincere heed. I say to her, "Did you dictate the Pages Of Hell to Dante?" She answers, "Yes, I did." Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, August, 2000 Edited by Orit Bonver, August 2000