Blame me not Oh teen of heart
for broken dreams that thy feel
Mourn never past days of yesteryear
in endings not felt real
Sing before sweet bitterness
defying sorrowful grieving
Unmask thyself with boasting pride
and hide the aching tears thy spirit's feeling
Dreams are made in youth of love
so tender as they seem
The robber of life has filched from us
our spirit we once gave free
Set thy blade aside for them mine heart
and keep thy faith in love
The loneliness that hurts so deep
will be felt by us not long
Let anon our treasures be laid to waste
as hard as this may be
Remembering past days of her
are best left in our dreams
(05/13/2014)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem