All the Daisies in the meadow I have plucked
my fingers bleeding, bruised, broken
Their perfect pure petals stained
with the crimson drops of my desire
tongue ached, dried, cracked
'he loves me'
'he loves me not'
there are no more daisies in this meadow
Come, Cupid! carry me to another upon your cursed wing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem