Dear Lady,
loquacious in your speech,
it is in this impracticality
of one condemned to inferior class
that I should vehemently beseech
your love, however vilified or tasked
my place, and loathe your hospitality;
here I hesitate at your chambers door,
where your voice articulates or destroys
that which I have freely given,
I rule you supine and lie
with the antithesis of my soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem