Love, like a lamp, lights up a dream
of joy and hopes to tell.
Daily delights abounding seen
To hold the world in spell.
I will not spurn the sensual play
With bold peaks rising free
That waver party drunken in a sway
And fan the flames in me.
Within a dream of consequence,
A thistle in my soul
Creates the pain that rents the fence
To free a bucking foal.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem