Fiery blinding stairway's
Up-stepping Heaven.
Pleasant-roomed; for Love's heart too.
As fresh and open.
Palm-cooled, and hung and spilt
Of eve's jasmine scents
A mooned fount's pacifying
Floatingly augments
Here's its premature hour.
Death's, his soul to feel.
Atop, when bursts wide again
Both rests more ideal.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem