I know, no sorrow
can sit in your
mirthful heart.
No dirt governs
you, even in dream.
If there's any
sentiment wrapping
yourself, that's
feigned, your
altar ego,
subconscious mind,
play the game,
to rob your fame.
In one fine morning,
when the sun will
come out breaking
the net of cloud,
get out of your
feigned skin.
There, I'll be
waiting to paint
a kiss on
your forehead
with love!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really love this one. What I see in this write is someone not being themselves and putting on a front to deceive a lover. The lover sees right through it and gets to show their love after all. A thought provoking write. Good.