Upon my face your kisses settled
Soft as sprinklings, blossomy.
Which the precursors of fruits are!
Waxings of your heart's dowry!
As by a voice in the breeze were you
Sweetly compelled in the spring.
Overtures have bills trilled, and still
Doth summer's tempation swing!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem