My throat was tight
as I tried to recite,
but too nervous, I ran,
as always.
There was a verse,
and I knew it at first,
but before I began,
words dispersed.
Half of a kiss
gave her such happiness,
'til she found it a sham,
and she wept.
Lost and afraid,
she was ever dismayed.
But when Time ticked too slow,
she decayed.
I'll now write our lives
in curly, cursive lines,
so that every last day
will be loved.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem