Your eyes are softer in twine with mine,
How, ever, I wish to meld with thine.
Even two are better than one soul,
but what an impediment causes me such sorrow!
Not physical, this barrier may be,
But instead, is a matter of only me.
My love burns hot, cold as a winter breeze,
Biting at the heart, in such a way to please.
Death to us has none power to part,
for at that turn, is only our new start.
An embrace so tender, it turns as all to snow,
From this melting, does a new tree spring to grow!
Rescuer, you to my unholy shrift,
Hope I your heart as well do I lift.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem