Come live with me, and be a certain staff,
Ridiculing me only after I speak of insanity;
I will be a bed of tulips, for you that makes me,
Strife has accomplished the prison of flowers.
The state of things requires a new heart
Willing the same mourning of the ends.
These are my ends and they will be yours,
Striking bolts of love is one way to be a staff.
The certain bolts of health give value and treasure
For all the gold pieces, and all the golden pens.
Come live with me, and be my staff forever,
Fixing me with the stare of young hearts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem