My love did write me notes of loneliness,
Her tears have smudged the margins of the page,
But left an ending of such sweet caress,
As though bowing, to curtsy on a stage;
If it is true that life is but a show,
We must have acted scenes for quite a while,
And countless times, for me, her face would glow,
But nary once I saw a put-on smile;
Though roles mimic only reality,
Oft following the dictates of a play,
But lines at times speak with sincerity,
Imbued in hearts with apt truths to relay;
......If chance have left unspoken every word,
......True hearts will understand while in accord.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem