Every heart can grow cankerous
To the apple core—turn bloodless.
Its paradise not avarice
Autumn gathers, stores, covets.
Secretly its cold abutments…
Want only to lock-horns like snails.
Forget feeling downcast, dullness…
Forget purple coloured veils-
Over sadness, we’re not goblins…
Memories can be tainted but
Love is scarlet as red phloxes
Gather your own harvest, chest puffed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem