A Maple Poem by Liza Sud
A Maple
You are leading me from God.
everyday in a hallway catch.
By our window a maple is growing
and its trunk is wet in the morning.
and in you is my main purporse,
as the end of birth is in a foliage
trembling always are maple leaves, -
thus my speach incoherent is.
I cannot buy you, nor simply take,
and your marriage I cannot break.
that's why hear I'll simply die
out of desire and love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/9/2024 1:43:22 PM # 1.0.0.1119
