the month of they say a moment
of the sweetest taste of heaven
of a colored world of the heart of gold
of the infinite joy that never grows old
pity for the loser
they fail to catch their crown
the unlucky feels the agony
and never what they say the green day
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A golden plum, fell on the cloudy garden without grass just a shine, are we in heaven? With true faith, for who crown it in heart time move endlessly as old cursed to be eternal young sweet in heart but pain has no part to live around Beautiful write you did glad see you again this time_Unwritten Soul