For a love with a light that can fashion
A glory that knows not eclipse,
What voice, when its uttermost passion
Sets of silence the seal on the lips?
Lo, here on the leaves of the blossom
Behold it, in symbol and sign,
And I send it, a throb from my bosom,
Beloved, to thine!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem