Don't pen the proses
Don't ring the roses
she will crush them
'cause she is heartless
Don't bang the head
Don't blow the trumpet
she can't hear it
'cause she is heartless
Don't ornate with ornaments
Don't garnish with greetings
she frets at them
'cause she is heartless
Don't bring down moon
Don't shine the stars
she less grok them
'cause she is heartless
In the warmth of her penumbra
far from sight, sound and sense
she dwells in her own universe
almost believing she is heartless
Until a cupid toad pierces the rib
gloats glory, leaves her blood drip
she cares not to remove bow or curse the crook
she can now see, hear and feel every stroke
each with much delight even the croak
she sings at sting, dances with dart
she finally ferrets out, locates her heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem