I faintly see the wells of the darkness
That swallows and rises as we dare,
The dear prison keeps me awake and pretty
Like the winds of the heavenly springs
Seeking the pleasure of the royal kings.
My certain habits manage their character,
Like a bird that swallows its food;
Kinsfolk are the breeding sins,
Father and mother cries out to young
In their state of restlessness, so divine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem