1
The lot by the graves was a dusty hot land;
The river behind -- blue and cool.
You told me, 'Well, go to a convent,
Or go marry a fool...'
Princes always say that, being placid or fierce,
But I cherish this speech, short and poor --
Let it flow and shine through a thousand years,
Like from shoulders do mantles of fur.
2
And, as if in wrong occasion,
I said, 'Thou,' else...
And an easy smile of pleasure
Lit up dear face.
From such lapses, told or mental,
Every cheek would blaze.
I love you as forty gentle
Sisters love and bless.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
From such lapses, told or mental, Every cheek would blaze. I love you as forty gentle Sisters love and bless. hamlet. thinking and getting inside the mind of Shakespeare. tony