There was a maiden somewhere.
She never had the chance to find love.
Love had not seek her.
She plays wife alone.
The maiden does not grow.
For she is intimidated and shys away.
Nature makes her pretty.
But she has lot more to do.
She is lovely in the gardens.
Her skinny figure is a beauty.
She was to be loved in youth.
Now she is growing weak.
For someone to find her and keep her strong.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem