Life is not at all sweeter:
Of a love-lorn lotus eater.
His Heart lost its trust,
And dreams kissed the dust,
In the deep of despair his soul sailed,
And from dawn to dusk his heart wailed,
Kith and kin deserted him in a moor land;
In a parched and lonesome Island,
Of hatred and distress
Where I forsaken my mistress
I ask to a loadestar to shine in my skies
To guide me to that blessed meadow;
Where I want to see again a shadow,
Of her fascinating love in my eyes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem