The death of love is a wonderful emblem,
Love teases with remorse, and love enjoys.
One death is one heart in the ruins of the creation,
The creation spreads to all quarters of heaven.
What do we love according to the realm?
Love speaks sense of the ultimate variety,
But love dies accosting reality,
Love defies reuniting with majesty.
The death of love is about transparency,
Above holds of power, below the instincts,
Such that logic entrances the individual
And the soul then masters and matters.
The deaths of hundreds is the death of
A thousand thousand hearts, fully immersed
In love of beings too complete, too imagined
By controversial speakers; the hearts do enjoy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem