Your Dandy still whispers in my ears,
And the paper flowers deck my bed,
I sought and willed in you my anchored shade.
In my dawn, you came up with one color,
And in my spring, my cuckoo in you sang,
Why and how, know not I, in you I had a hang.
My maiden-tree blossomed for you,
And hankered your mystic grant,
My sturdy feet, stepped the shore,
Never knowing it a quicksand!
Your witty argument evoked in me,
The pride of a woman for her man,
Find how, Chaffy grains they were,
Muse, and muse, but never I can!
Your growing arrogance on my slavery,
And whips of authority spread by and by,
An unequal-insane, at your random,
My psychics to me mock and pitify.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem