Your eyes pour
So much tear,
The amount the clouds
May not bear,
Every night you cry
I can hear,
The world's so cruel
I can't dare,
To hold you firm
In my arm.
Your chest holds
So much clouds,
You keep over them
A white shroud,
This is a matter
Of no proud.
It is nature
Of every girl,
As the oyster
Conceal its pearl,
If you love me
I shall hurl,
All the bars
Of the world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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