World has been re- made
Night is now twenty-four hours, while day is thirty-six
Butterfly virtue in me
I crane my neck in search of true love
When love conflict with nostalgia, first level of madness will be recorded!
Why must fate be cruel with lovers?
The people we love don't love us, the people we don't love loves us.
Why does it take drawing water out from stone to actualize our dreams?
I won't give up, because faith and fate is destiny
I am going to find till you my missing rib.
11/9/2011
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem