Weak in thee knees you Grow fire wench
pulling on you mane from the back as
you like that knwe you did...Bleet to me
as free.....as is so....made your bed
as is want all the time
where i dwell
on the top....Happy are you to give unto i
flowers scent more will grow garden got known
cross the land as the best
i know well..leave no rock full more so
unturned no not i...Blessed is she to dwell in
house with *(IT) * more so known than not.
Bleet to i my fairest of the fair bleet me up
bleet me down
to the ground you know well make those sounds...
.blessed is the bleet on your face...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I don't have a clue...will return to read again... Dorothy