Forgive me, I'm over-wise
by your beauty that overflows
in clear torrents of grace.
Don't delay me like a promise.
This flower is a rose that lives
in devoury of beautiful gardens.
Let me not wane in wither of salty
and bitter oceans, take me with a
heart of now. Drink not in doubtful
rivers of 'morrow' for they bear a
promise in moribund.
Let your nubile be in destination of
purpose and the world reborn-ed.
Beauty o! forgive me, I'm over-wise.
Like a saxifrage your beauty must have
sprung in strong terrains.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem