Lucky is he who wins
the first love of a
simple soul,
a girl in prime age.
Love begins
in solemn trust.
Pity on him who
misses the offer,
or throws it into the dust.
Ego kills real and true love.
(Graphic: Sandy W. saved to CoverPinterest)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem