What started as a game
Has turned into something real.
The smiles, the flirts, the kisses,
though of humble upbringings,
have taken root - deep.
The soils of my heart are open.
Having seen the birth and death of much love
It has become periodic in its nature.
(But the surface always appears rich.)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem