Hey love, hey rose, I wish I knew the day you were born
Such a beauty on the face of earth; yet a twin to a thorn;
Oh what fiery slaying eyes, killing with your sharp scorn
And yet sometimes sweet, gentle eyes that smiled,
Fragile, meek; and often even wet and wild:
Your eye, your tear are mother and child.
No one can love you without anguish and pain
It is like there are no flowers in the fields without the rain
Yet I would, Oh would I could love you again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem