Along the chasm at the edge of the abyss I lash the horses with the whip - I drive them on... There is no air - I drink the wind, I swallow fog. I know with morbid ecstacy - I am dying, I am dying! Run slower, my horses, run slower! You donít respond to the taut lash! But somehow Iíve got capricious horses - And Iím not able to live, I canít finish my song. Iíll water the horses, then Iíll finish the verses - As I stand for a moment at the edge...                     We came in time! You canít be late on a visit to God - But why do angels sing with such evil voices? Why is every bell silent with sobbing? Why do I shout the horses not to run? Run slower, my horses, run slower! I beg you donít gallop headlong! But somehow Iíve got capricious horses - Even if Iím not able to live, I must finish my song. Iíll water the horses, then Iíll finish the verses - As I stand for a moment at the edge...
© Douglas Causey. Translation, 2009