There are secrets that are sins,
There are secrets in the Winds
That no one will ever know,
Covered with eternal snow,
Placed upon the, Mountains high,
Where eventually they'll die.
But the 'Mal d'Amour', my love,
Lack of love, were talking of,
That's the saddest of them all
For a poet, above all,
Needs to share,
His love, his soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yeah! Out of the head and into the heart, hurry and get going, never late to start!