Love, it will reconstruct us all
remove our shadows from the wall
so, that nothing remains forlorn,
we'll all be airborne, not soil-borne.
When hearts-shell-is laid empty
we'll make for our Holy Lady
remitting all of our petulance
she'll hold us in her countenance.
Love, it shall be a shining torch
a golden melliferous light
fixed above God's cloudless porch
'that is shadowless and airtight.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem