To know all too well
What is withered
Often sickens the soul
Laugh at my own misfortune
How I long to pluck
The petals of
A delicate rose
In awe I stare
No forest is too deep
How far will I go
In search of happiness
To mend a broken heart
I run and stumble
Only to learn
The fall was never
Worth it at all
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem