Layer upon layer of ice on my heart.
Dear Sculptor, what a great work of art.
He loves me, he loves me not, I think I'll
Need another flower pot. Breath taking
Beauty magnified in my mind has now
Turned to dust because you're unkind.
Spring time comes and your masterpiece
Wavers. By the end of the year I should
Have no more layers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem