What lies just beyond, beyond ours
In sweet-greened compassing about
Of what love, strong motherly love
Made a home out of, a redoubt
Will always be that cold-blown, and
Of laments, down-surging road.
Always, always, in fiendish light
A dark world's assaulting goad.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem