I was with her. Together
we harvested the joy of life.
I do not know if it was Satan or God
that planted the thorn of hate in her soul.
However, when it became dark she left.
She locked herself into her dark house.
She rang.
‘Very quiet here, ’
she said, ‘only me and solitude.’
I replied, ‘You are one, the solitude is zero,
so tell me what result will you get
when you multiply yourself with solitude.’
While answering her I was lightening the night,
and my head too, with some drinks,
celebrating with five of my friends.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem