To Anacreon (Strangling the Muse)

Curse the day

Lacerate the sense with excruciating rage
Flood the range of sights anew with torrents of your shame

Determined in our solace, we must face the barren night
Chorus of Olympus, rise above these earthly lights
Surging through my head as I proceed to look beyond
This mockery, this poverty, this paltry state of mind

An ominous rumble through the parting of the clouds and the sullen dead trees
The maddening strains, the rapturous timbre of Anacrеon's lyre

Hysterical shouts from a place far bеyond my sight
But I can hear them clearly as my path is torched with Dionysian flames

Surrender not to the resentment of the day
Your spirit needn't be trampled in this way

This terrible farce, this ignoble place
You've lost your way, now bereft of grace

The night went on, the cloak was raised, the air was crisp and clear
Glasses full, the gods were praised in revelry and cheer
Cast away this wasteful day and scorn upon the Muse
Drown the cursed sounds of whores whose songs are of no use

Thamrys was blinded but he will not be silent