ゴッホへの頌歌

　　天上よりくだりしムーサイよ

　　ゴットハルトマッシーフ峠にて

　　氷河をつかみて戯れしお前よ

　　情熱は冷たい川となりて

　　お前は流るる、アルルへと

　　その水音は賛歌(ほめうた)なり喜びなり

　　満天の暗幕にちりし月と星なり

　　それを写せしは揺らめくガス灯なり

　　しかるに汝ら調べを共にせず

　　独唱歌(アリア)なり星月夜なり

　　おお、お前の苦悩は巌(いわお)となりて

　　耳を聾せし歌響かせて

　　葡萄酒色の海に沈み

　　朝陽となりて昇りしか

　　　　"Ode to Van Gogh"

　　Muses, descended from the heavens—

　　you who once played upon the Gotthard massif,

　　grasping glaciers in your hands.

　　Passion has become a cold river,

　　and you flow onward toward Arles.

　　Its sound is a hymn, a joy.

　　Moon and stars scattered

　　across the darkened veil of night.

　　It is the trembling gaslight that renders them visible.

　　Yet you do not share the same music together—

　　an aria, alone, is the Starry Night.

　　O, thy suffering has turned into rock,

　　resounding with a song that deafens the ear,

　　sinking into a wine-colored sea,

　　and did it rise again as the morning sun?