Will my heart not be as fierce,
But merely a rusty spear to pierce
At Will's wooden door,
But break no more,
And then, upon defeat,
Retreat?
Beat! O Heart, beat!
Prepare for when your strength depart;
And when love and art
No more suffice,
Prepare your sacriffice.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem