As you came out of church, all piously
Your noble hands bestowed alms freely there,
And in the darkened porch you shone so fair,
The poor all heaven's riches seemed to see.
I then saluted you most graciously,
Humbly, as suits one in discretion's care,
When, drawing close your robe, with angry air
You covered up your eyes and turned from me.
But Love, that will the most rebellious rule,
Would not permit, less kind than beautiful,
That pity's source all mercy should refuse;
And in your veiling you were then so slow,
That your umbrageous lashes throbbed as does
Dark leafage under filtering starlight's glow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem