Fluttering air may hold my attention;
a breeze may breach my focus,
and makeshift comes,
allowing me to feel the coolness;
whilst whispering wind reminds me of nature
that is a gift from above.
Oh, love has no pseudo,
lover should no phantasm,
and lust shouldn't a tool.
Behold the phantom of mischief;
the apparition of crocked and their rendezvous
purlieu where eternal fire celebrates.
Beware to fall in love,
be anxious and fail not.
Prayer is the key;
reach God and ask,
He owns true Love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem