I burned for thee at heart
She joyed me
Her ghost watches, to bare me on wings of graced
The poetry spoken of being desired floods the soul
Spurts of vigor strung by a trance
Now my prise of sublime
She succored to me. sending embers of devotion
Thou dead, she neve left thy side
Purified by the humility
Speaking the tongue of absolute
I remember her so pure with the scent of spring
We bled are selves dry to se each others delight
To be weeded with enthrallment
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem