A lonesome wolf cries,
for his ancient love,
now lost in the star,
of the heavens above.
Each night he sings,
to his mistress so dear.
Yet it kills his soul,
that all but her hear.
He misses her so much,
and it kills him to know.
That he must pay for his sings,
and that you reap what you sow.
So each night he crys,
to the one that he loves.
And his soul will fly,
on wings of dove.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice work here! Although I felt confused on the wording of the last two lines of the second stanza, the rest ran along smoothly: -) Titi