No sound do I make in your presence
hallowed are your feet
where I kneel.
Clear are the eyes green fire
that hair of pasion.
Different evey week as my pleasure
service to me oath swore you
bended knee still in fasion.
Black with pink are the lips of pleasure
drink them in like wine know none other
till death over takes me and 1 day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love your poetry! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !