Dear Lady,
loquacious in your speech,
the total conquest of my mind objectifies belief,
in my hands a ribboned scroll, its parchment coarse and dry,
the words above your royal seal deeply wounds my eye.
What decorum or habitat reveals about survival of my caste;
the potency of unseen lines, the indignities of class,
With fluency of tongue unsaid words claim my strength;
you deny me rest in beds of virgin innocence,
you deny me thought despising my crude ignorance,
you deny me love and the complexities I crave
bolting the chamber of your unused heart
and watch me pound in vain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem