Innocent little fox, Drinushë,With your deep and wandering gaze,...With fur on your shoulder, your chest and your throat,In your trap you have caught me, defeated me...
I do not even know myself how I fell completely in,Into your deep river and your sea,The color of your lip, the arch of your eye, how did they make meSnatch up the fragile pen of the poet?
The eye a trap, always ready and set,And my pen a lead - a dove - a word,Did you catch me as I fled down the road,Or as I stepped out of the Garden of Eden?
What am I saying, like a madman, a drunk,What does it matter which of us set the trap,You kept your gaze always raised high,Or I my spear-pen, my bow of desire!...
