Such silk of innocent sin
Much greater beauty within
Like a rose in bloom
Single touch to bring light
And in that, bring life
Banish the remaining gloom
But a prick of the thorn
To defend the scorn
Will heal so soon
Prick of pain from vines
Wrap the splendor and intertwine
Envy of the flowing plume
Grows in lush taste
Fear not, beauty that will not waste
Through the many moons.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem