I remember my childhood days.
She was a charming girl knock-kneed.
She had a mighty heart and always in a friendly manner.
We grew up together like a one family.
She was very fond of me and it was not love but very intimate.
Nothing beyond true friendship and only a kiss I had but in a dream.
One day she was worried about something.
Never told the matter and I found a letter in my homework book.
Dear N, I am very shy to tell this to you.
I have a red birth mark in a secret place and it penetrates me.
I dream that you are my future husband and I will show this to you one day.
Definitely on our honeymoon.
Oh! What a tragedy it was?
Nobody believes this.
She died in leukemia at the age of nineteen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A sad story Nimal, that's to bad