Can there be any doubt?
You have overcome me.
No other stands before you.
This is consuming me.
Here is where I will stand.
I am before you,
A poor supplicant.
Restore me to myself
Or I will be lost in you.
Such is my plight -
Annihilation in your eyes,
The sweet little death we shared -
Inevitable and wonderful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I'll take a flier and think I understand this. If I do. Then this is a rather simple expression of consuming love. If there is such a thing. I can't imagine a more restrained plea emotionally accompanied by a dynamic plea intellectually. I hope this lover reads National Geographic and not Cosmo. Whatever she reads, this desperate lover needs Byron. To read, not write. He can already do that. GW62