Beauty cries the rising sun,
For you look prettier than it thought.
Gracious, light of the day harken,
For you out shine its shine.
Stars gaze at your night parade feast,
For it is twinkless to your spin.
Finally they say what a day
To the beauty Vivian.
Even if mother seeks for a nun,
Father must desire virtuous Vivian.
Not even the magic of Merlin Hermes,
Nor the enchantment of Aphrodite, the love goddess
Can thwart our nuptial fleet.
Oh! My missing rib, Vivian
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem