All my years I regret
The women I cannot forget,
The words from ones never known,
And those I wounded to the bone.
Names I care not to recall,
And wishes and lusts of heavenly gall.
I pined for soft-skinned arms at heart,
The care which only women impart.
Again and again arose the ideal
Of her whose love I sought to steal.
Though I never saw her in line or space,
Still memory retains her face.
And if I love again in truth,
Will I repeat the errors of youth?
And when I see my lover’s face,
Will the former image be erased?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You are quite a young ladies' man. : -)))