You are for my love, as mine is for you,
This discovery, though mundane, is never new.
It may seem as the echo of the senses,
And of the body, soul, and mind,
Where in heaven such equals, do we find.
Your music lures my frenzy ocean-ward,
Your dumb-surge, lyres the throat of my hidden bard.
The museum-fossils, rise and act with your slightest touch,
You are thrilling, magic prevailing, topsy- turvey maiden's march
Your haunting spell, like a tolling bell, airs all wither,
And they passage way, through desert and bay,
Cry an wild cry, abandoning all body's pleasure.
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I would like to translate this poem