Perhaps Cupid’s arrow is in my chest,
Since I can’t take the least rest,
Awful desire for you runs through each vein,
Over and over again.
You’re Psyche to me,
The eternal emblem of beauty,
May be love is irrational,
Yet it has taught me the meaning of survival.
“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem