I want to touch your soft rosy lips
I want to burn in the fire of love
Let me lost in the dark of locks
It is my extent of self destruction
My tears make the dew feel shy
The rivers all stop to see my eyes
I cannot explain reason of gloom
It is my extent of silent obligation
I myself invited my sorrow here
And fed her on my innocent heart
Blows of envy wounded my soul
It is my extent of painful decision
Leaves of joy have fallen in dust
Blows of grief have raised storm
Gardener himself watered poison
It is my extent of living in desert
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem