Stay out of my head, you simpering hearts,
Braying and bleating you've broken apart;
We've no time for Byron or Shelley or Blake-
Pray tell why you, instead, we'd partake?
Nobody cares that you're jilted again,
Perhaps with your choices, you'll never win;
And being passed by's not actually a sin-
Perhaps you'd be better off, without men?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You are of course, more than that part of art...iip