Hope
Hope is a cheater
I am deceived by it many times
Once it had seated me
On a branch of a fig tree
And waited me for long
For the flowers
It would bloom
Another day it had laid me
On a corner of a bed
And waited me for long
For the milk of love
It would bring from the butts of a hen
At the end
I had given nothing
Neither flowers nor milk
I was a fool
To be too indulgent with it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem