The pretty girl
With the battered face
Who swept the empty halls;
Her head bent low
In her disgrace
As she heard
My sharp footfalls;
When love can ball
And form a fist
And smash those fragile cheeks,
What love’s so weak
What heart’s so frail,
To bruise that skin so pale.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like it, I enjoyed it. thanks.