Huub de Lange - Four Wilbur Songs To the Etruscan Poets - текст песни (слова)

To the Etruscan Poets
 
 Dream fluently, still brothers, who when young
 Took with your mother's milk the mother tongue,
 In which pure matrix, joining world and mind,
 You strove to leave some line of verse behind
 Like still fresh tracks across a field of snow,
 Not reckoning that all could melt and go.
 
 Richard Wilbur