Behold my Praise, Lively-Lady, Behold!
This is a Fact I can always ensure
For if my Ego pretends to be cold
I deserve to be in Prison verily.
I'm sorry for such Lame Words, dearest Belle
The Artist here has a Duty to Live
For if the Master confiscates my Pen
How else should my English Rose Concerns give?
I knew you only through the Tweets you speak
That for me is enough to wear this Faith
For within your Vase sprouts a Promised Seed
Which flows Sweet Mustard to poison the Wraith.
If Questions you ask, that will add to One
And in your Friendship let your Will be done.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem