Amidst the noise of the waves, amidst
the roar of the storm
Amidst the laughter of the white
seagulls
Night
is coming, when the sun sets
At
the edge of the threatening rocks
Where
will your song find a listener
That
might give you applause?
In my palace a thousand splendors
And a wondrous swarm surprises
There you will harvest a crop of
monarchal cane
There they will honor your rhapsody
There
your song will meet recognition
A
fresh-green golden leaf
There
is praise, honor and sweet delight
Desire
only to come to me.”
And to that the haughty slave said
“My song is not for you
For my song is full of contempt
And [my] blood burns for revenge
My
lute today does not ring with the sound
That
awakens sweet frenzy
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