To love a beleaguered soul as my own love,
Means a soul to be, being has music for the mind.
Forming inner peace is called beautiful for me,
So as to love the finery of appearance.
I have to brood and deceive, in order to despise
Those souls within me, and without me.
My comely habits tend to taste right in front of you,
Never conciliatory, never disturbing to this time.
May the dalliance of swift lovers never conflict
With burdens shared and considered sweetened by us;
This love carried all the hopes of a bright future,
These lovers who cause others to love must die honorably.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem