Their souls will ever dance,
As they kiss the Holy Lance;
With lips that touch and go in delight;
Not daring to imagine their might.
They wait with glinting eyes;
As the seraphs sallee in the mist,
Nestles as a delicate bossom sighs,
And awaits the angels' kiss.
By Peter's vision of the site,
Lionheart renewed the holy fight,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem