I died the time when love was born.
I died, you see, I died.
If there's one thing that ever kills,
That thing is love inside.
'Cause feelings plain and simple spent
Are sane to be rejected.
A thing or two to show the scar -
Death in love was stated.
For when was it considered true?
For when, I ask, for when?
That those who loved be rendered spites
In view of love's content?
I died, I say, I died again;
The words are pale in meanings.
I died deceived, misled, forsaken
My heart's bound up believing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good poem eloquently forged and customised by nice relations.