Sarcasm is the finest way
to criticize one.
Sometime hatred dances
the dance of love.
A woman becomes dish
and her poem and used phrases
turn to sauce to make
the fry more delicious!
the river, the star, a lonely
cloud are handled as objects
of relentless humor.
Sitting by the window,
the sad poetess watches
them one by one.
She drinks the poison
to save them.
But, never longs for
crimson blue
in lieu of the sky.
The Mistress of words and thoughts, flowing well here! ! ! thanks
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thanks Universe, F.B.