In vain I look
For a lovely nook,
Where I can play with you
At hide and seek,
And shout and shriek
With none to intervene.
My golden bee,
I've kept for thee
This honeyed cup of heart.
Do drink thy fill
Nor e'er you spill
The precious drop divine.
For long a time,
Nor song, nor rhyme
Did lull this weary frame.
But now my lark,
Let me but hark
A strain or two from you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem