You say you have nothing left to offer;
But you’ve given me a gift I greatly oblige;
The gift of betrayal, the gift to suffer;
The one you’ve conspired with expertise,
I’m beginning to remain often distressed;
My tears have washed my heart in blood;
Deception unbearable my soul has caressed;
Perhaps, I’ll dwell in forever’s teary flood,
You rejoice at the cost of my devastation;
Repeat your game in a whole new way;
How many more preys and excuses shall rain?
The death of betrayal shall surface someday!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem