Is there no rose of pure delight
no lily white or blue bird wing
rival to your charms and opal skin.
Do I wake or am I sleeping,
honey-bees in sleepy drone
liquid sweetness from the
lotus bloom and honeysuckle arch
Such pure delight no rose can tell,
is there such and do I dream?
Leave me lie, the moss is green
dew dispersed and night-moon's
silver light fading with the sun.
Blushing lily's trumpet petals
orange stamens strew to fertilise
with dusty grace the swelling seed.
There is no rose of pure delight
no lily white or blue bird wing
to compare with honey-sweet
and opal charms.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem