I know Mrs. Misery
She lives alone by the side of a fire-river.
The river is far extending.
Through out the night
Sitting on the wharf she longs for a boat.
Neither boat nor boatman come.
Night ended.
Mrs. Misery saw morning-girl come vomiting blood
and making the stratus crimson red.
As she suffering from ‘the John-Keats-disease.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem