I have thought of you as thinketh man of death.
What can i not give to make night sun 'gain,
On this thought of mine, to harbour your mirth.
What praise hast mine life, that for you can't be slain?
Your heart is the cord that tunes our love duet
Wind over hill plays the harmonic verse
Your lips are unbroken yet mignonette.
Wherefrom are you, o desirous lass
I do not wish to mourn amidst my days
Or ever grieve in thought this day thereon
I share no more in your substance of praise
Out of my youth's gay shall no forl'rn be born.
You are a deadly force poisoned in beau
As the wind's vein rise on the pearliest dew.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lovely poem, Folayemi. Thanks for sharing