Bequeath my heart unto a fable
That I may love and be loved
That the tales of my youth
May still ring true to some degree
I ask that I grow not old, alone
Embittered by each passing year
In the solitary gloom, forlorn
By the anguish of the unrequited heart
Yet to know the union of another
That I may become the tragedy of the unwriten
Unable to gift my heart in such a way
That I no longer able to love
That I am unable to be loved
Let those tales, those words once written
Prove not to be of a false hope
It is to all such fables I now ask of you
To love as it has been written
Bequeath my heart unto them
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem