I wonder why they don't go
Memories of the world of oh!
Why do they complicates?
Or shouldst they aggravates?
Even I tried many times to back,
But it keeps coming back.
Would I ever be freed
From which makes me bleed?
A story full of sweet-bitter times.
Tho' fought many times
Why this love-hate rope?
Like man hung in air with rope.
Or what man calls destiny?
And if, do I take time for my destiny?
I wish the 'bruise' go
But the Priest: 'Can't go! '
Should this continue even,
Up high in heaven
The Prophesy that world likes
Of me, to me I dislikes.
So to the harlot, pls, tell this to her
My feel of her, to Her.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem