Liege Lord of my love, all naught I rate my minuscule wit
In want of a matching mind to well prostrate homage pay
To that solemn duty by high heavens lent,
That cherished vocation of my fleeting day.
Liege Lord of my most bosom affections - the very liege superior
Over the fiercest there ever was over the galactic canopies…
All my feeble talents I all worthless deem
As that Eden-baited airy boasting's piece.
Which renders the ensnared all unworthy of firmest duty,
Who treat as frail for honor the benefits of deity beauty.
And duteously departing from any such heedless heads
I herewith color my austere paths with all-heeding reds.
Liege Lord of my life-lasting love, spurn not this earnest avowal;
This full-voiced volunteering that my sparks be hence voided null,
And forever an ancillary fiddle play
To that dear Destiny's eternal say.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem