How dost you'
Frighten me so
With your love-
And care
Manner dost
Does dreads me-
I, neither worthy
Your gaze
Is burdened your caress
But hear the gods-
Their displeasure in weeps
And yet their consent
In coldness
That shriveled leaves
Be our blanket
Aye, you be queen
And I be eunuch
But naught interferes
This violent feeling
Not the sting that caught offers
Nor the fear foul of hell
O my fair lady!
If thy beauty washet
I shall blind
Not it could
But I
A chameleon
For you
And bosom yours
Be fine gallows
To lose head
Tis here my lady
My life seeks grave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem