My love, my faire, I dream of thee
Thine softest smile, golden haire
All things mine would I forsake
Of thy love might I partake
Faire Gwendolyn, easily, would I spurn
This broken kingdom sure return
My king, betrayal, I would not have shown
Had thy beauty then been known
And now with greate sorrow do I behold
Thy sweet love and fairness untold
Your servant in all things, Lancelot
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A poignant rendition my friend. Any past transgressions....surely forgiven! In fact this might get you a free pass to sow further wild oats. Got to admit you're pretty smooth.