Love offers countless tears
To bemoaning lovers with grieving affairs,
As it roaring past them in whimsy rides
And fades away to deceiving dale.
Still the men plant the trees
In zone safer
And hope to flower them
In fancied strain of beloved tone,
Nurse them like child maiden
Filling up all branches with
Incense of breathing passion.
That enthralls every stroller
Whence passing such displaced Eden.
But Heaven frowns such valiant efforts,
Brings miseries and despairs of his own
Rains them in spirit of strife.
Alas poor gardeners
Watch your own destroy
As the garden looking worn where souls planted,
Countless tears roll
From mourning vale,
Fountains born innumerable
For loves second spell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem