Your love is seasoned of trust his reliance.
Would If you could just brag,
isn't she like purple figs ever so sweet?
Your his love of reason the why of his strong reliance.
If golden is silence, isn't she silver trumpets pure?
The why, the thus, of like minds.
Milk how it flows from her hands.
Her feet have I washed, my position, low.
Sunday and her sweet perfumed breath!
However, because of God's peace, she withstands.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem