Mother’s breasts to the second born
Are not the bitten apples.
Mother’s love to the second born
Is not a truncated one either.
To her second husband
Must a woman vary?
16.01.2007
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A virgin flower is full of nectar of promises and dreams, a sipped flower is half dried of nectar and dreams too spent in reality