After all the white roses and chocolates are dealt
And sweet-talk on tongues of both lovers shall melt
The earnest affections of Shakesperian lore
Shall die like a flower- and flourish no more.
But if Love's kept asleep- snoring in heart's cocoon
Then on nights, cloudy with purple skies and blue moons
It will fly out the skin, like a sweet butterfly
And Love's curfew will dawn 'till long after they die.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good concept - I like it!