At times I hate life for our crossed paths,
For it weren't for them,
I'd be peacefully crushing on the new face that is just as angelic as yours.
But for these crossed paths,
I can't help but believe there's no prettier face than yours.
Even when I meet a prettier face than yours,
You're the image that is portrayed in mind.
Eventually it's just as tormenting as it would have been had we not met.
I just wish it was later than now,
Because I now have to deal with image of the one meant to cross your path before me,
And darling does it hurt.
I guess this is what it means to be human,
Choosing who'll cross our paths at what time and place is not within our abilities.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem