If that certain one is worth possessing can love be real,
self possessed leaves one alone, unpossessed.
Being possessed in spite of love all alone, face
lifted up,
feels all that one feels, even when rain softly comes.
And having life a life that's lived well and a warm hush
crimson lip's never touched, lost in you.
After all having foresight each time after love and I being
yours and in loveliness, other's have met like us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem