Such were the joys,
When we were girls and boys,
That at night when we lay in our nest
Ready for rest,
We were no more seen
Beneath the fair moon beams.
When into play came those rosy lips,
Dews of passion arose in vapoured wisps.
As your fingers lay fitted in mine,
The faithless turned to think of the divine.
And all that was chained in depth and height,
Had broadened, freeing the soul out of sight.
As your silken fingers lay on my chest,
My heart is at ease and in peace I must rest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem