He is with hate.
He is consumed with the venom of hiss.
He has ire great.
He has in his soul, the black cloud there is.
He with doomed fate.
He with heart, where in dwelling lies no bliss.
He moves at rate
He moves like lightning with fangs her to kiss.
He then does wait.
He then feels her charm's light he dares not miss.
He did relate.
He did sink in thought, 'What warmth is this? '
He feels its spate.
He feels love clear as spring on coppice.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely composed,10++