I went to dig a grave for Love,
But the earth was so stiff and cold
That, though I stove through the bitter night,
I could not break the mould.
And I said: 'Must he lie in my house in state,
And stay in his wonted place?
Must I have him with me another day,
With that awful change in his face?'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem