Classic Poem

So long as the child preferred to me such and such a
player of the flute or singer to the zither,
little I cared
that she loved such and such a player of the flute or
scratcher of the zither.

By the cross-roads I have fallen struck, struck by the
thrust of a sword.
Whose? player of flute or scratcher of zither?

How long the night is to be so slow in dying.