'Tis torture! this onus I bear
The world with its standards and various cares.
Can I not, for one moment, be spared?
My heart cries out its agonies and swears
That it shall cease at once to care.
Drops, nay, rivulets come down hurriedly so
as the rivers might in their serpentine flows
As my core, its contents it shamelessly bared,
To all, to men, to the Being who knows;
My restraints, its shackles, I must let go.
Why must it be that 'tis I who by love
Must suffer and frustrated be?
Has the time come for me to be spurned?
Why, oh why and how could this be?
Hast thou willed it my Father above?
'Tis sincere that my heart so speaks
And pours forth it heavenly rhapsody;
The songs of the naiads fair it surpassed
By its rhythm of desire and lilting melody;
But lo! 'Tis but a single audience this song seeks.
So near that star I see so often
But to grasp it seems an improbable dream;
Still, I gaze, for in its rays I am gladdened;
My being it has touched by its alluring gleam,
Even my silver heart has come to soften.
This searing feeling of glowing ember
This seething firebrand of that love azure,
Has made my soul wildly conflagrated;
'Tis only one thing of which I am sure,
I desire this fire to burn forever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem