When will this love be mine,
glimmering in its wondrous divine.
Stories of such were long foretold
songs of it are sung by young and old.
Basked in sensual continuance
lead me to it I plead
for this incessant desire doesn’t cease
to grasp hold of its want, its need.
Music, bells, stars and flight
I see nothing, please give me sight.
Dear Love, come out and be shown!
A ghost doesn’t feel, but I deserve to know.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem