Her smiles are stronger than his pen
as no urge keeps his pen in sleep.
Her smiles made him hanker after fame
Or else he'd be a useless sheep.
Shut, shut, shut,
Her sanguine face is shut to him.
Till Corona leaves this world fair,
hides from him to make herself slim.
Love isn't at once a fruit to bite
with all of his physical might.
Amaze at it when it ripens
and grieve if it leaves from his sight.
Shut, shut, shut,
for his amoral desires, shut!
She wants a tranquil march of love
and not to wend it's way in a strut.
He finds his niche in writing poems
but her taste is in a make-up face.
The two poles apart never to meet
so ended in a half-run race.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The two poles apart never to meet so ended in a half-run race......so true. te two poles apart never to meet. A beautiful poem on love and Corona is amazingly shared here.