O my epitome of feminine charm,
Partings ours be for sooner than later,
For shall days ours insisted on be a sham
Of unavailing promise of 018′ winter!
For known are we as an steady and a suitor,
And in skies of lots
Do I but get thee,
my heretofore truest bird,
The paragon of beauty,
The engrosser of my heart,
The enchanter of my eyes,
The sweetener of my breaths...
And partings be for long ours,
Sure shall make 018′ winter a loveless one
And is not unbeknowst to you this:
‘Shan't wait more any, your swain! '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem