Two turtledoves,
Two young pigeons,
From the poor man and the rich man;
But sprinkle some of the blood in front of your garden,
And like the bush of your love in winter.
Clay and plaster,
For the summer comes with many questions;
But sprinkle some of the blood in front of your garden!
And like the bush of your love in winter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem