I bequeath thee my love O nightingale,
For ye may be worthy of this thy gift.
No maiden fair, beyond the pale, wilt sleep
Nor grant me solace, nor my soul uplift.
O nightingale, beautiful nightingale,
pure happiness wilt thou beauty grant me.
Spread your dainty wings, fly beyond the pale.
O please bring my fair maiden back to thee.
This risk may not be worth such a gamble
as my fair maiden once deserted me
far beyond the pale she flaunts her sample
to such low class snakes of society.
Know who rests his head upon your pillow
For the slithering beasts may penetrate
Written by: Melvina Germain
Date: Feb.4/2013
Time: 1: 22am
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem