Coos it so sweetly that aches it here
The poor heart of mine,
Poor and love-lorn,
Broken and torn
And here lie I aching with the pain of mine,
Whom to say to,
All about love,
The heart of a loverly man
And it goes aching and aching and I in search
Of finding some hemlock
By putting the palm on the heart
Trying to console and bandage my broken self.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem