Former naught, graceful not,
singing in the tears.
Pierced blue heart,
by lovelorn darts,
take me through the years...
And what wailing dost hear -
when darkened hour strikes three -
tis only quiet little me
singing my lonely misery...
waiting for her to find -
my soul inside -
which longs to hold her so.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem