Orc（醜い鳥）とCor（悲しい「ココ」ろ）の歌 the Song of Orc and Cor (和訳中）

The boy who cries, will stop their tears one day;
And become the boy who reads, alone.
The boy who reads, will put down his book,
One night, and go on travelling on the road, alone.
The boy who travel must do so, under the feeble moonlight.
And many, many crying stars; stars that shed his tears.
When he walks, alone.
But he would say to the night:
"Eternal night that hung,
Do not disturb my Silence,
With thy unempathetic tears.
I must go, now;
alone"
The stars would fall,
The moon would die.
There is no torch-fire.
The boy who cries,
must go forth, alone.
The road stretches on, and on.
He crosses the stream,
crosses the woods,
climbs the mountains,
navigates the seas,
rushing past the markets,
the graveyards of the churches,
Northwards, Southwards,
Oriental, Occidental.
The ends of the square.
The diameter of the circle.
Limit of the Earth.
Till exhausting all human shapes,
all human colours, all human songs. 
He rides upon the aetherial winds,
and traverses the nebulous dreaming,
the dreaming and glistening milky way,
with the darkness of a prism.
And thousand millions galaxes must die,
Each star, each babe, a grave and jubilant sigh.
Go must he, across all the dark cosmic sky…
Arrive…
Arrive…
Where?
She must be there.
She must be here.
In sleep.
Orc, the crying butterfly-bird.
Seeks eternal "Her" in this dark, cold paradise.
ORC, still chained to a rock.
In his cave.
In his grave.
In his fountain green, his heart.
COR.
Would seek, in the dream of his tears.
Upon the hot, crystal tear-pyres. 
To the immolated butterfly that is a bird,
His scented, ashen, riding wind.
Pfpantasm-Gaea.
My Love,
Where are You?

Illustration: William Blake 
(Orc emerges from creative fires to challenge the forces of imperialism in plate 12 of America a Prophecy)