Let love not slip from minds
For the sacred of life known
Has never been found purer as love.
Love may have been infused with resentment and hate,
Glossed over with abhorred blemishes,
The fount through which the life contents
its last fond of whit is the love,
And hence it is the yearnings of all mortal souls.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem