Let this barmaid show me a shadow,
I am crazy with brocades and charades,
Knees have shot and been crazy like wars,
Fought by the willing weepers of late.
I have wars under the skin, leaning and waiting,
The show is forever, with all its call,
Seeing may take on surprises and gazes,
This dalliance smacks me in this way.
To analyze the gazing of the stars is sinful,
The worst place is not heavenly nor hellish,
So much war has a guess or surrender,
One glistens afterwards, like the red sun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem