Under this misty
Mountain I set sight
On a damsel in distress,
Why men mistreat virtuous
Women I wonder, yet blame
Is not ours, women's wants
That is as vast as the
Universals, who would be
So Boad as to boast of
Feeding them all, for love
Is so little a thing that
Has led many men to run,
And Ruin, I stood still as I
See the one you held so
Dear hurts you daily, while
I picture my future with
You, a lady that lays on
The line as my light, and
Life, I watched your lonely
World with the wrong one,
As I dream of a yielded
Maiden in my bosom, my
First, and past kiss taste
Sour, and bitter, yet my
Lips look so lonely, and
Get dried daily of your
Taste, I will rise at dawn
To see the dove that dote
Me, for if love be the best
Words in the world I wish to
Whisper more a day, as night
Falls, and fades away, with
Every winter that comes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem