If I should love you with undying zeal
And carve you on the boulders of my mind,
Then let ethereal Grief our spirits bind
In chains of misery, hawsers of steel,
Let Sorrow lash our souls, and Anguish weal
Her marks upon our fragile hearts, aligned
Forev’r in blood, we bleed until we find
The gist of deathlessness, the love ideal…
Let thus the lacerations of Ordeal
The holy Golgotha we self-assigned
Open the eyes that faulty love made blind
To fathom that which Comfort did conceal
And if we bear the Cross, be not repined
This love will perish if our gashes heal!
Adelaide
September 26th 1994
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem