outwait outrun outwit


an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
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English translation:

They say that every night
he was wholly overtaken by tears;
They say he never ate, but only drank.

They swear that even the heavens
trembled to hear his wail,
he suffered for her so,
that even in death, he never stopped calling for her:

“Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay,” he sang,
“Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay,” he howled,
“Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay,” he sang,
tormented by a fatal passion.

They say that in early morning
a sad dove sings to the little empty house
with its wide open little doors.
They swear that the dove
is none other than his spirit,
hoping still for the return
of the ill-fated woman.

“Coo... coo...”
”Coo... coo...”

Don’t weep.
What will these stones ever know, little dove,
of love?
“Coo... coo… coo... coo...
coo… coo... coo...coo...
coo... coo...”
Little dove, do not weep anymore.


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