Is it fate or just dumb luck,
That we find love before we die?
Are we blessed or thunderstruck,
Under weight stones ov divide?
Are there really words so sweet,
As is joy to human soul,
Are there, any, cosmic feats,
That can question love at all?
Why, oh why then, some do find,
While ugly wander through the stones,
Why oh why then lov'd am I,
While the wretched die alone?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem