Entombed by feeling;
Emotions; vulgar with excitement,
Ready for spring; ready for summer,
Affected by the environment.
The trees turn into leaves,
And the leaves turn into ash,
My mind; deceives, deceives,
Death is a requirement.
And now with a glance of sight,
As to a walk of my feet,
I dance to my love; my wife,
Ill dance till I'm deceased.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem