O That I Might Finish
O that I might finish my slender little fiddle that I carve and hew a whole morning. Out of matchboxes with feverish fingers, I carve and hew it the whole morning .
Fierce tempest, wait awhile on the other side, I still have to shape the lower part. And you, Death, stay at the threshold in vigilance, I have yet to polish the top-piece .
Now to insert tiny pegs in the smooth frail neck and draw fine hair throughout its length. The murderous band is revelling in the neighboring courtyard and my door is already caught by their glance .
O, another tendril of the head for the little fiddle... O, beloved, don't quiver — let's have another hair... A wee little fiddle for the wan little kiddie. O that he live to use it for many and many a year .
Fierce tempest, wait awhile on the other side, I still have to shape the lower part. And you, Death, stay at the threshold in vigilance, I have yet to polish the top-piece .
Now to insert tiny pegs in the smooth frail neck and draw fine hair throughout its length. The murderous band is revelling in the neighboring courtyard and my door is already caught by their glance .
O, another tendril of the head for the little fiddle... O, beloved, don't quiver — let's have another hair... A wee little fiddle for the wan little kiddie. O that he live to use it for many and many a year .
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