With all the wickedness, roaming the earth,
And filled good spots, it is a waste of Hell,
All sorts of evil thrive, the good's in dearth,
And even Paradise gave in and fell;
I might, my soul, enclose in bins so tight,
With cherubim to guard, on lock and key,
Until salvation comes, and all's in light,
When hearts of men, are neither black nor gray;
But you, my love, I've got to see outside,
For love that's always pure and truly grand,
Beware of serpents that the tree would hide,
Refuse all apples offered to your hand;
......As love will always seek and hope to find,
......But find in hope solace, as love is blind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem