If I were the Iron and left by the teary ocean,
I would rust and lose my strength with the passion,
the love and affinity for the burning deceitful Oxygen.
If I were the carbon and left to burn in the fireplace,
I may help to heat up a few cold hearts,
But I would be burnt down to be the wasteful ash.
If I were the gold and melted in the hot pot,
How much tempting firewood is used to collapse my spirit,
I would glitter and shine leaving all my impurities to the flirting flame.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your poem glitters! Nice work.