O Sweetheart, hear you
Your lover's tale;
A man shall have sorrow
When friends him fail.
For he shall know then
Friends be untrue
And a little ashes
Their words come to.
But one unto him
Will softly move
And softly woo him
In ways of love.
His hand is under
Her smooth round breast;
So he who has sorrow
Shall have rest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
For he shall know then Friends be untrue And a little ashes Their words come to. a very fine poem. tony