A life exquisite is what I ache for,
Splendid, celestial, divine to the core;
Smiles from my lips therefore let be
Grabbed away, and all lustrous jollity
From my soul be snatched; let my eyes
Be His focus to drain them to surprise;
Great sorrow let me have, or great loss
Of love and life; let despair toss
Me ever; a widow’s tear, an urchin’s plea,
A vagrant’s pain at once to my glee
Let me drink; for great sorrow sole
Shall grant great recompense to my soul.
No more of these dull, delicate whirls
of poor grief; two tears’d breed two pearls,
While for a million I ache; smile, sweeter
Yet is dull, and each drags me a meter
Away from heaven; the pulse of Life
I crave to feel, and therefore strife
Be mine; nowhere would a still smile lead me
But moving tears, to a life of divine glee!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem