What a beauty that persuade the eyes of men without an orator?
Are you Helen of Sparta or Helen of troy, my beautiful muse?
Nor are you the daughter of Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty?
O' wench, your source of beauty has speed past the compass of my wit
Make me acquainted with the source of your beauteous form, o beautiful beauty.
Or did heaven in thy creation decree that sweet beauty in thy form should ever dwell
No wonder the sight of your beauty brought back my once lost wit of poetry
I shall call you my beautiful muse, my Caliope, my Erato, my Terpsichore
And from the fresh springs of your breasts i shall drink; there lies the gift of poetry
Then shall compose more lines with rhymes as did Williams Shakespeare the great
And would have my name immortalized on the lips of men.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem