I took a walk by light regard
It was merely a night fling habit
It often occurred after supper rush
My Maiden would not care to quest
She would make her face mourn
And pout with folded arms disally
And couch herself tight or upright
I would bring us fruit in the wilderness
But the journey would not be shared
Night journeys are secretive in a way
It is a habit so necessary and so mannish
This should never catch the poet's ear
The confessor with nothing untold
To every rumor he tells and re-tells
Ow! the whole world would cheer in belief
Between my Maiden and I, nothing escapes the house
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem