The size of apples is an amount,
Feeding with frenzy is a habit;
The lusts and frenzies along the life
Must be huge and significant.
This fruit inside my heart is ripe,
And the strong bones mature
To make fruits and more shrubs.
This body is heartened by your zeal
And someone is somewhere in heaven
Tasting and never cooking.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem