My mistress eyes are nothing like the sun
From over dale wherest thy ray do burn
Open thy womb for my heirs to be born
Cast from my shadow an art of a son
Pout thy piteous lips that tickles my wink
Unwear thy robe; set thy apple' my gaze
Path to damnation do peril embrace
Such lofty pike, not even at the brink.
Humble thyself to the wooes of my veins
Let our mortal parts acquaint till moon worn'
Make ominous cries of relishes and pains
O fair night, shot thy eyes; be not a thorn.
Let the echoes of my kisses be heard
And let constellations form round a gird.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very nice! thank you