بر سرماي درون

On the Inside Cold

All

My hand and heart

Trembled

Lest love

Could turn a shelter,

Not a flight,

But a passage for escape.

O love! O love!

I cannaot see your blue face,

And the coolness of the balsam

Over the blazing wound,

Neither the ardor of blaze

Over the inside cold.

O love! O love!

I cannaot see your red face.

The dark cloud of comfort

On the presence of whim

And the pain of separation

On the presence's escape.

Darkness

Over blue comfort

And green lawn

Over crimson.

O love! O love!

Your familiar face

Isn,t visible.