Who is this fool who rages
In the night amidst my daffodils,
As if he had the right to roam within?
Does he not care for breath so sweet,
His own I mean, that he would tread
Upon my green and tamper with
My daffodils?
Say, Fool, that lingers long where
I, no fool, would have you never come
But take your leave and see you ne'er return,
Where gardens filled with daffodils,
And lacing every windowsill,
Will never want your presence haunting near.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem