O breeze, be my messenger,
To my beloved, deliver this plea:
How much longer must I wait?
My eyes wither, my heart weeps ceaselessly.
My tears fail to draw the beloved near,
My words remain unheard, my end draws near;
I await death's embrace,
Yet someone stays aloof, my dear.
If death claims me, do not forget,
Be by my side as I rest, my dearest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem