Ô rage, Ô despair! The poet, cast far away from courtly splendor… For a clever quip, banished… No: the rhymes don't work!
You pause for a moment, considering how to better translate your own story.
Ô rage, Ô dark despair, far from the court’s fair light; The poet stands exiled, condemned for words once slight.
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Much better. As for the musical accompaniment, you'll see about that later. Already, clearings in the forest are appearing, announcing the proximity of human lands. These grim places, populated by uncultured people, will unfortunately be your new home. Making the best of a bad situation, you will have to take it upon yourself to entertain the ignorant onlookers, for one must earn a living.
With a heavy heart, proceed to 211.