Self-translation into English.
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My voice is gone - and I can't even call you by name,
Just gape my mouth like a fish at evening market displayed:
Still seems alive, but a rope runs through my tremorous frame,
My eyes are dried by sun, my scales are cleansed by the blade
Of the cruel scorching wind. From first, unknowing, lost.
In oblivion I dream of you - the wave a fish dreams most.