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Love's path, threading, I dread
And lovers in my eyes, all are queer
'tis in name. practice, rare
Emotions to great minds are mere
Be it exist though,
shall I be sick and get cold?
knowing am smart for little cupid
his arrow for company, ready to shoot it
My eyes have long been unseeing within their sockets
Such beauty to which holy men would give their offers
by me, prettier than her a woman never lived
'tis Canaan of old to the Israelis a gift
She makes me love to love
and at that, all over 'gain
when our lips, caught in a hug,
that they would never refrain
This once mare liberum of a heart
now solely her mare clausum
for that she wished, and am glad to succumb
What being, several picks in one cart
And she makes me love to love
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem