Fresh youth I like you in my heart
Have to bear green trees and shrubbery
Fresh and cool besmirched with morning dew:
I have still to reproduce to make my child:
My lady-love, companion, mother of the child
Have I to happy make in full permanence
Till I our child have made, at least.
Continous evergreen my heart has to be
Continous has it to hear
The rustlings of the boughs in its woods continuously.
My child has to be made before born.
And to be made the mother has to see
As in a mirror all at her display
The genes like cards I on the table lay
She then re-arranges, packs, re-distributes
And at the end refutes or else accepts.
That sentence is the destiny of our child.
Fain would I appeal if negative it be
But ah! if my lady-love accepteth me
Then let’s abrogate appeals and after-thoughts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
George Amazing poetic skills here