existence of anything lives for as long as the thought of it prevails
real love is when we love withouth even realising
the harmony of love
it is love when we love without any physical reward
nature drives our endeavours to a well of satisfaction
and often times we despise and care less about
where the waters of pleasure came from
the more indulged we are in aspiring treasures
the more conscious deeds increase
toward my fleshly desires my cannoe hit my curiosity
the suddenly i realised that nature
wasnt as bad as history sings
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem