if it isn't love
then what is it?
if you are still
there
despite the fading
of so many
sunsets in my life
then what do
you call it?
you disclaim
your being a goddess
it was your underestimation
of who we are
which tore us apart
may the sunrise come
may birds sing again in those
fields of our
unsatiated satires
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem