My from this Gods love.
What is this of mine to give you of his love?
Great and trusting making hearts, my dove.
Wrung from weeping hands,
and silence sprung the well deep is the guf and long despair.
Your life -from me, and Tai of this, what life?
Upon your garland hair, I smell, the hills are bare.
To see love coming and see my love depart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful iip! Your poem has a heart wrenching melancholly that steals the words from mine mouth! Thank you Smiling at you x