I was not born mad;
I had not grown mad.
But I was made mad.
The cause is you.
I know not love;
I tasted not love.
I have no sore of love
Till I met you.
I now know its gain;
I now know its pain;
All ended in vain.
The cause is you.
Me, you lulled
and then pinched.
I have no anger.
That is love.
22.12.2000, Bbsr
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem