on this island breeds men of high rank
by this riverbank, sit i to observe the ripples ashore
by this riverside, saw i the idol of my inside, above the tide
aloof i stand, my proof at hand, my guilt, my filth
my wreath, my sword i sheat, no feast for mans defeat
the venom of her love poisons my soul
it tills me tender
in the river of her love
i long to be drowned
my wit abound, wit love i found
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem