My dearest,
Wide and barest,
Stretched her nectar hands,
Ride I ride, not of being a afraid,
For, the promise is grandest of the grands.
My steed with airy hoofs, soon abridge the two lands,
On the echoing green, spring-farmed shrine,
Stream the heart of my Beauty’s brand.
The blue would unlock her beguile,
And with smile forest and hills would bloom,
The shadowy queen-moon, would glow her bride,
The mute-mystic –musicians would make me swoon.
I had no sense of what happened,
But colossal - quaintness - quakes I felt,
My life’s goddess, stepped and blessed,
And all my memories forgot to tell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem