I love you with my every breath,
I make you songs like thunder birds,
Give you my life—you give me death
And stab me with your dreadful words.
You laid my head against your heart
Last night, my lips upon your breast
And now you say that we must part
For fear your heart should be oppressed:
You cannot go against the world
For my sake only—thus your phrase,
But I—God’s beauty is unfurled
In your gold hair, and in your gaze
The wisdom of God’s bride—each soul
That shares his love, and yours and mine,
Two lovers share your aureole
And one is mortal, one divine:
One came on earth that you might know
His love for you—that you deny,
Now you give me this equal blow:
One died for you, and one will die.
Rejection is pain, pure and simple, and no body on earth is exempt from it. I doubt there is any relief from the hurt except the passage of time and the pen in a poet's hand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love you with my every breath, I make you songs like thunder birds, Give you my life—you give me death And stab me with your dreadful words This is great love and great poem.