Oh come forth, what ye say of loves fair hand,
singing across the waters, dripping like golden sand,
counted in time, to a sweet melody,
each note that passes, in the shade of a tree,
I heard you calling to a song so rare,
mystical creatures dance with feathers in they're hair,
they say his heart is breaking, but this I can not see,
for behind this melancholic verse is a man that loves me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem