Should my eyes be found guilty
Of thy beauty they behold?
Or should siege be laid to my mind
For its sweet riot for thy comely looks?
If my tongue lays quiet still,
Will a charge be brought upon it
For praises upon thy unbidden essence
It lavishes, though silently?
O my sweet lady,
In earnest I seek a thing to you compare,
None more dazzling than the flames of thy hazel eyes,
Nor anything finer a contrast to pearl than thy ruby lips.
Thy presence a far greater light to my heart
Than a million rays of the sun to my eyes.
At thy voice, my fears melt, yet
Ever softer than a thousand tunes of sweet melodies.
Thy pleasant ways I overstate so hardly;
For I shall isolate rather in a valley
Where loving thee endlessly my occupation shall be
Than dwell on a mountaintop without loving thee so softly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem