It sucks. You can
divide the love. To live or not
to live. Half pain in eyes, half on lips.
Of all time, I was
looking at you. It will move or
become a stone. In the end there is no start.
The tearing of centuries
has failed to define life. For whom
to live to die again?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem