I'm not his wife. I am his paramour:
His wayside love, picked up in journeying:
Rose of the hedgerows; fragrant, till he fling
Me down beside the ditch, a drooped thing
Some country boy may stick into his hat.
A paramour has no more use than that.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An amazing poem dealing with traits of a paramour as also elaborating it's true meaning.10 points.