First time this white Lilly,
Laments on whole night worry,
If I knew my word might silly,
I do say nothing but sorry.
If there is a dooming valley,
To take my sin their in hurry,
And before she ask more query,
I would have set it bury.
Whence a taboo-mouth carry,
There won't be mood to merry,
If she still can accept my sorry,
I won't let her go sans marry!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem