Let our Dear Creator, Maker of all;
Crown my efforts with untroubled years!
Though the speed of the soaring lark,
That wings to the sky his flight
The soul has taken its flight
Out of the finite dark, by and by;
Into the infinite light of days
An honest prologues to this day in time;
The happy hours often return to man
When love did melt our hearts to burn
Love taste like the taste of a full breasted milk;
Its feeds the heart with a confusion of peace
OH Love! Oh Love! thou hath unfetiparous,
I kindly desert the old, and pray thee anew.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem