Borderless Love
Thou art queen of my soul, queen of our generation.
I, am a peasant of the seventh generation.
Is it wrong to fall in love with thee?
I, son of Grandier, poorest of men
Thee, daughter of a general, most honorable of men
Can we not, for eternity, love one another?
Thy hut, as miniscule as a hamlet from our country
My mansion, as colossal as a prison cell in our country
Our love, does it respect space proportionally?
I, my love, do not have prized possessions
But my love for thee is my priceless gift for thee.
Thy love art my prized possession to be
I shall keep it safe till the ends of days for thee. |