The way it burned,
Till I couldn't take anymore.
I took two of them,
And made sparks everywhere.
I liked the sparks.
I looked right through them.
They encompassed my heart,
Making heart shaped arcs.
I rubbed the matches on the ground,
And soon my heart burned with fire.
Oh love, allude me not,
For I am not a liar.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem