Oh listless love, lay your head
upon whom you've hurt the most
and marry me with the dead
still you rise as a God or ghost
by a thought or some quiet moment
A less then gentle whisper tells
this minute and nexttorment
in parts it kills and in all; Compels
Oh half measured, unpleasured dream!
as lifeless dust you rise and fall
and have us question the theme
if it be right to have loved at all
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem