Evil Death,
like a rapacious bird of prey,
has sunken its claws into your heart
and murdered you;
The cursed Butcher of all existing ages
has taken even you.
O, if only they could understand
your soul,
those people to whom I know 
my wail of desolation sounds mad!
O, if only they could hear you
in conversation, in hot debate;
I would outline to the people
by means of a dream, perhaps a bold one,
 your radiant face,
lit by your love of truth,
your inquisitive intelligence
as you calmly gazed at people.
Just in time, you broke
with "brilliant society"
your connection of custom,
and parted from it without anger,
and through tireless thought,
you have known a different life.

When my beloved mother died,
all sorts of misfortunes befell me;
driven from my childhood home,
shattered, evil, tormented and exhausted, 
I timidly and anxiously -
like a frightened child -
sought refuge 
in your holy soul.