I Queen, thou has taken me as serf and servant begot,
Not in court thine name mention, not even a faint assurance of attention
Thou has left me in the penumbra of inflection
How could I fight or use grace's sword?
I am blinded by love and lusty for innocence, prudence now desecrates my youth, May I lose to meet, I pray thee with no deceit
...
Let I lose to meet king that will pour my liquid worth into eternal pages
In your surging passion that rages,
Thine memory, those you share in letters of gold
Thine heart crowned with scribble gold preserves your smile
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem