When I, with my black eyes, black hair,
Come see me love, my valerian youth,
Like a flower laden branch, a bouquet
My bosoms are the fruits of heaven;
Red wine, intoxication, a dream
My lips, like a bud, for a nightingale
To relish. Spring is me, my airs alas!
A haunt forever, my lover’s lament.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem