Devoid of the deficiency in my environs
Regardless of the impoverishes in me
My soul, my heart, my mind yearns for ye
Like blown up in the skies nylons
That beg of gravity to do them honors
So they could usual ground touch and see
Yet end up hanging loosely on trees
So is my essence when you my means despise
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem