(in answer to Thomas Wyatt)
She drives me away that did me once seek,
then again sneaks secretly into my chamber,
becomes once more timid, as if tame and meek
while like a wild cat her eyes do burn with amber
and totally puzzled I am at this new kind of guise,
I wonder if she does want to devour me in bliss,
where now suddenly the situation is otherwise,
she does give me a passionate kiss and another kiss,
where this is stark naked reality without any forsaking
and I wonder is this her kind of strange new-fangleness,
where in loneliness for her months my heart was aching
but in all of this I find goodness and some gentleness
with which in love she does me without words serve,
as if some pure intimate happiness I do deserve.
[Reference: "The lover showeth how he is forsaken" by Thomas Wyatt.]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem