I am in chains, O maiden-rose,
And yet, not shameful of these guards;
A nightingale, thus, - in dense laurels -
A feathered king of the woods' bards,
A proud and charming rose over,
In a sweet bondage - lives for long
And softly sings for her a song
Under a sensual night's cover.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.