On blooming flower
Keen eyes she cast.
Being alone, her heart
Beats in fear so fast.
She desires to put mirth
Within her heart.
She feels afraid to keep
Near one a part.
She longs to run
With a good chain.
For her good
She pockets to pain.
For headway
Earnest effort is a must.
Without endeavor
Anything is reduced to dust.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem