Living in the bubble of her hate
I twist about incredulous of my Fate;
I, who fed on love like breathing air,
Should live imprisoned in this Ogress' lair;
I, who counted sweetest all things gentle:
Refinement, wit, and goodness elemental,
Savoring all that taste and grace do bring,
Should live within this coarse and vulgar ring;
I, a creaturre bred for temperate weather,
Delighted by the softest feeling pleasure,
Confounded by a hate that poisons souls;
Enduring through the nights as they unfold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good piece. Enjoyed the read very much. well done!