My angel, my daughter, my cygnet dear,
When will you see yourself as God and I do?
When will you see what God’s sons think of you?
How can you at this dapple-grey down shed tears?
For your beauty, your worth is why you are here.
After a mere, short while is quickly through,
others will in awe and astonishment coo
at your splendor, perfection of many tiers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem