Strumming my heart, unbeknownst to the one playing his own
heart into the melodies of transparent beauty, icicles now
forming in the frostiness of what used to be my heart.
Now it is to be no more for beauty of past love lies there
frozen, unable to be melted for my love is gone and will
never come this way again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem