That you, good lady,
good honesty did not come,
is the lake to me
That you who proposed,
and promised, and cajoled me
from my enclaves,
that you did not turn up
is no anthill for me.
That you lied that you would
probably is.
But you will not find out
and I promise
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem