Why do I do as though my dough bakes well,
When bread so lacked the tarts, your smiles impart,
Like tide that's been in ebb, I wait for swell,
And pray it comes, before you could depart;
But boughs that capped your bags along a bend,
When April loosed its tears, as parting calls,
Would find no leaves to shed, this Summer's end,
True of all trees, after that last leaf falls;
Yet, stars are there, presaging what they'll bring,
Signs, omens, for all which I got no flair,
What I crave, is the feeling of a king,
To stare at stars from chair that sits a pair;
........My eyes then seek no stars for light they'll show,
........For I could find within your eyes their glow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem