As I twist and writhe and groan
As my spasms squeeze out moans,
As I kick wildly in my chair,
You ask me if I feel despair?
I answer readily enough
As I cross my legs trying not to buck,
'My disease has brought me lovely you,
Small penance for a love that's true;
For you are Nature's kindest being,
Brave and loyal, how strange it seems;
This may sound to you quite odd,
But I think of you as one from God;
My disease is only God's excuse
To send to Boaz lovely Ruth
As he slept on his sacks of grain,
This kind young girl eased him of pain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your words paint such stark and real images in my mind. I am sad that you suffer, and I am glad that you have your lovely soul mate by your side. xo