'If you outlive my happy day
and read then or again my lines,
read them for my love for you
not for the inferior rhyme, '
might have written humble Willy
sonnet number thirty-two
in a time
less considerate
of form and rhyme;
might have thought,
'If I had written better,
gained fame,
I would have sought
someone better than you.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem