That my shadow cast a smile upon the bereaved
And my name a house of hope for the despaired
That my doors, beds- agape to the weary
And my coins saved for the starved
To clothes the freezing, aid the feeble
And buy the disgust beheld with own soap
By my faculty to put lost on proper course
And deliver flowers whom- from venoms desert- dies
That by nature, study- I pardon many deaths
O by me, this hand- to pick peels that splits bones
Though they dwell out my paths, towards stress
I live though on the wane of this-
That my fain seeks only to better the other-
But I pray-by fiddles my vanities, o my fair care
That you art me o light, devour me so deep
For here only my life’s’ true blush-
And price fulfillment my soul doth ev’r seeks
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem