PALE brows, still hands and dim hair,
I had a beautiful friend
And dreamed that the old despair
Would end in love in the end:
She looked in my heart one day
And saw your image was there;
She has gone weeping away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
(The Lover Mourns For The Loss Of Love - Poem by William Butler Yeats.) Read over and again. Couldn’t understand, but enjoyed reading.