A warm fired up air
Of wingers.
Bees, hornets; with
Heart's stingers!
Tis inviting, Love's
Blossom hour.
But careful, lad; of
Its ardour.
'Oh, this pain-felt recall;
Long after, yea
Blew as a passing
Phase away'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem