By the clear green river,
One afternoon in early autumn,
A dragon-fly with crimson wings alit
On the white thigh of my belovèd;
And, ever since it flew,
More fully have I known the loveliness
And the transiency of days;
And love and beauty burn within me
Like the piled leaves of blood and amber
That burn at autumn's ending.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem