At evening of life
When sunsets to smile.
Haze atmosphere romantically invites me.
She looks pale.
Not loosen her beauty
She is not naughty.
Her bright face is shrouded by black curling hairs.
Where black hairs looks like black clouds.
Still her pale face looks hazy.
She is now feeling in susceptibility.
It seems that it is haze.
Still beauty remains on her face.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem