There was a promise, made with no measure,
Unwritten, untold, yet meant to be kept.
While I was mounting, you dug for treasure,
Down you went without care, in't alas I wept.
Sorrow upon sorrow shattered my soul
And pierced the last pieces of the past pledge.
Your deep well draged me into a dark hole
And I clung hard to its loose, tender edge.
You ask how hard could it be to embrace
A fall to the despair from the hope's crest?
To reduce this sin to a mortal face,
No doubt you must have a stone in the chest.
I fell, fine; but firmly without falter.
You left a bleeding hole of removed dart,
So behold, never-again-whole altar
Of my hollow heart, before you depart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem