Leave me, leave me for e'er, you needn't stay here,
as my manners and character, you hate.
Not to those in top but you, I have fear,
as frail women change at the hands of fate;
you are so valourous and proud my dear;
but by Time's verdict, you're my apt mate.
A jealous mind keeps you always in ire.
Till you get nous, I play sad tunes in th'lyre.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem