My love cannot find me. He has gone to fight the wicked beasts.
However that may be, I'll wait for him in Beulah’s well at least.
He calls to me, from my heart, in the gentle light of my quiet day.
Oh how my heart longs for him; thus, while he is so very far away.
I calm myself to listen; though while the ocean's tide comes in.
As with 'the song of Solomon, ' I'm weary of love's Love, again...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Now your crosses are burning....so Sweet Amour your man is coming round....I heard him talking about you just yesterday.