Encased in stone
On which flowers were thrown
Is the love of my life
Who sought to escape her strife
By ending herself on the point of the knife,
Was it me
That you so hated to see,
By light, my face.
Was it only to end my chase
Are you truly happier in Death's embrace
Rather then veiled in white lace
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem