A romantic walk in central park
on a autumn evening with leaves of brown
swaying under the crescent moon's spark
feeling blissful and acting like a clown
You go home and sit down
unable to get that gleam off your smile
‘What a night' you say, with your crown
on your head rolling down the love aisle
Upstairs you go, standing in the bathroom
brushing your teeth with a delightful high
you give a check of reality and boom
the mirror slaps you in the eye
‘Wake up! She'll never be yours!
Your looks are not the golden oars
to steer her love to your sacred shores! '
Eyes widened while stroking your sores
Flinging limbs into an empty bed
The quilting cold as a tear begins to shed
She flew into the night delighted
Never has a love felt so unrequited
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The competent and sweet aroma of this poem reside in the powerful use of sight imagery. The diction also contributed greatly! ! Really like it!