Let go for once and let me be your vest;
I know that you've been hurt too many a time,
And some—or all—make reason not, nor rhyme:
Your life has not the place for one more guest!
You try too hard—but fail—to sound unblest,
And make it seem as if it were your crime,
And desp'rately your naked soul begrime;
Yet your 'poor' traits the opposite attest!
You can yet lie and say 'tis like before,
And think they run because of what you've done;
Perchance 'tis true when they can't see below,
And oh, how clear your heart that you abhor:
Which won't let me let you just go,
Not even if you hold fast to that gun!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem