Bring me nothing but good hope
For love songs shall perish easily
Like winter in thoughts elope
To mornings of tomorrow breezily
Your love's filling the air with song
That comes through dreams moving on
Soon they’ll all to yesterday belong
Like everything before told - is gone
Each beauty is simple - not telling why
Only given mystic to you it will show
Listening vaguely to their around tie
Some of their smolder in fallen glow
Simple is not always the flowering shade
With something to say in its flower
Of bouquets so in variety languidly made
Each for every single going hour
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem