The golden seal,
Like the one that loved her;
But Mary took another mate.
Of all the things that had been,
Upon the threshold of one's life;
Mary took another man.
Matched with an aged husband,
Matched with an old oven;
Mary married another person.
Like the spoil of war,
I have the sadness of a vale to uncover;
Like the days gone by.
I still remember those days,
With my white hair at bay;
like a narrow cave that runs beneath a cliff.
Mary married another man,
Over all the boundless plains of love;
But my will is my law.
Of Malvern's lonely nights with,
A crust of bread and rags;
he now lives beneath a tent of leaves;
Life is like that at times but,
I have to move on with my tears;
Like the spoil of war when, the war is over.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem