Crying, I opened my words,
Laughing, they were took by the herds;
Staggering, my throat spoke with fears,
Swiftly was it heard by the ears;
My limbs were panting, their limbs like seers;
My desire so mellow and mild?
Like the keen yearnings of a child?
So plain my tears? So vague their brine?
To let my smiting lust shine
Was a labour so labourless, free and fine?
To speak no ferric oath was meet?
Desperate, I twisted on bed and seat,
I prayed, or begged to the untoward zenith,
Churned up by many a molesting myth,
Sighing and sobbing in the burden of my pith -
My heat, I see, was vain blown!
In a polished peace I could be shown;
I had thought seas would pounce and prune,
The earth would erupt like an angered loon,
But so little my thirst I got the water soon!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem