my king only greeted my wife once,
now he has her completely.
He said she is a fountain
where honey drips from hollow combs,
that she is as a garden
blossoming as with many flowers;
and God has made him the bee,
busy buzzing and flapping
his wings around the petals,
dressed in an embroidered robe,
with golden sceptre in his hand,
and golden crown on his head.
I saw my wife passing with the king,
smiling heartily and robbing his chest:
if you look for me as I stood there,
you won't find me. I was lost,
lost in my anger, my pain. I stood,
robbed my eyes, it was no apparition.
My hairs stood on ends, my head bigger,
and my heart ached and throbbed furiously,
yet what can i say to the king,
but, 'thank you my lord for your goodness'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A really great poem, like it. A great write. May i invite you to read my new poem called, The Holy Man.