The bride, in white, stands under rain.
Her hair wet, and black, and limp,
It is departing, life's train
But destination? Not Olymp…
A paleness clings to her thin cheeks,
Well, it's not sorrow, at least.
Her husband is maybe too meek
So who will hold the 'common leash'?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem