Scorch, torch, porch;
And like my bridle and your bridle,
But let us return on the same way that we came in.
My ears,
Your ears,
My look,
Your look,
And to return the same way that we came in;
For you are now in the prime of your life,
But the muse of your love is now hanging in the air!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem