In what of this one life's gift
Is left all to unwrap
Of the prismatic, has in truth
Been held up to entrap.
For what of these reactions
From each other diverge.
Love's and hate's, in a spectrum
Of feelings that emerge.
In being first blindingly struck
Flame-arrowed, ice-sharpened
To melt, or of heart, be chilled
With that all must contend.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem