By chance, this delicacy
Of your overall nature
Is not irregular worn;
Nor quaint, above the azure
Your approachable sunshine
Heaven cultivates, in souls
What of retrospect will be
Left to discern you, when tolls
My re-birth's flight in pursuit?
"My eyes, my eyes, shed will they
Your fervour's distinguishing
In green flames. Your heart's path-way! "
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem