I send you here a wreath of blossoms blown,
And woven flowers at sunset gathered,
Another dawn had seen them ruined, and shed
Loose leaves upon the grass at random strown.
By this, their sure example, be it known,
That all your beauties, now in perfect flower,
Shall fade as these, and wither in an hour,
Flowerlike, and brief of days, as the flower sown.
Ah, time is flying, lady - time is flying;
Nay, ’tis not time that flies but we that go,
Who in short space shall be in churchyard lying,
And of our loving parley none shall know,
Nor any man consider what we were;
Be therefore kind, my love, whiles thou art fair.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
And of our loving parley none shall know, Nor any man consider what we were; Be therefore kind, my love, whiles thou art fair. Love these lines. Every couple who had loved each other have a story, have conversations to cherish, but those will mean nothing to others, and maybe someday, nothing to them as well...