Dove you are but cruel
Sour my heart became
Adding you to my fire fuel
Even when I adore your beam
Momentarily I worry
Rhetorically myself I ask
Of what use is my penny?
Even when my heart break.
Have we more period
That I won't be patient
Have we more period
That my love will split
Abate my pain
Else I go insane
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem