If the love were to be God,
I would have been a priest.
The ordinary one from lovenation,
Wasn't sure for his color-
Until he noticed his paint
For it was to be love.
He was rooted in it,
He was wounded for it,
He offered all-
Till love accepted his request.
As the sun sets,
His heart settle with that rhythm.
Deep down inside his veins;
Forget not his own soul.
That forbidden apple,
Still acting in him rudely.
The truest thing-
Treasurer trusted to him.
Composed by justininkubito
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem