I have fired the enterprise with outcries,
My logic curtails the sighing of spring;
Then comprise me, this time it dries,
This promise of primroses is a cheering.
Compare the enterprise with declarations,
The fixing alters me with conspiracies;
I am the curing and the oppressed of discolourations,
With further tasks returning to the democracies.
Fill in torment with higher natures that flatter,
I see the later tasks ahead of my conviction,
For seeing is sight of course, the platter,
And sight fixes me in ways of attraction.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem