When all,
my love,
you've left
of love
is ash and
cinder,
my
dessicated
heart will
make good
tinder.
a brillant poet like W B Yeats would never have written a poem like this, so the idea doesn`t work, it has nothing to do with him...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your commentator Mr Philibert is very astute and indeed entirely correct in his assertion that this has 'nothing to do with' the celebrated Irish literary figure William Butler Yeats. I understand the reference to to be to one Wesley Burnside Yeats, an earstwhile poet, frequenter of Parisian maisons closes and aquaintance of the young Wentwhistle. His torrid affair with the courtesan known simply as Maud ended abruptly one morning when he found her gone. Wentwhistle uncharacteristically ommitted a comma and inadvertently added an extra 'n' in the title.