it cannot die.
it never does.
that is, if love
it truly was...
tho slain
a thousand times,
yet lives.
no sacrificial lamb
like this!
it's essense shed,
no crimson stain,
nor death's release
to ease the pain.
but rises as
the phoenix does;
that is, if love
it truly was.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem