Every day doth pass by
In tender sunder, yet do not cry.
It's my burden, mine alone,
with my strength and my man's cologne.
What, you say, you'll help me too?
but dear, then we'll be through.
You know it, as do I,
that if you do try and try,
I'll have no house, I'll have no hone
for this man's thick collar and man's cologne.
But try we might, it does strike true,
Through many times and thine face blue,
that if we try, it might be salved,
and our equal work, one third halved.
This need, sweet dove, I understand,
yet you must too, for together we stand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem