Neither am I the weightless optimist,
Nor am I the leaden pessimist,
For I do not reside in a living Hell
And of Heaven's wonders cannot tell.
She who was once mine enchantment
With whom I rode upon Love's firmament,
I have bid farewell, a tearful adieu;
Life begins again as Spring does yearly renew.
What has she taught this naive soul?
What upon me did her fiery life dole?
Between us exist so few pleasantries
Thwarted by the bleak, dismal memories.
I am now infected by the blues,
And, of Love, most stubbornly refuse.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem