My heart's self-same joy is at my Spirit gnawing,
My prescience obscured by thy Love's stalling.
Aye, sweet dreams turn drear by thy postponing,
And without you, my lost senses are roaming,
Groping, lost, forever grasping in the dark,
The void between hope and reality is stark:
An abyss illumined nightly by thine absence,
Blinding my heart to truth's unfeigned essence.
And conceiving starlight where darkness exists,
While ruthless Time -my final breath -assists.
Art thou so cruel Cupid's arrows you'd forsake?
And after stealing my heart, your own you'd break?
Truly it seems that our own selves we defeat,
When, from true love, we defect and retreat.
They say Time -unhurried -deep wounds can heal;
For me, it's found giving you flowers as I kneel.
While waiting for so long, my fresh flowers have died,
As angels from a distance, my ceaseless tears espied.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem