Cheep is she, who I can get.
But to get access, my pride forbids.
The other is worthy to befriend.
But to get her, her pride forbids.
The withered fruits lie unpicked.
The hanging fruits are untouched.
The fruits are in decay.
My hunger is in dismay.
6.11.2000, pmdi
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem