As beautiful as a rose,
seasons of life are like doze,
regardless of the joys and sorrows,
the river of life continuously flows.
As important as force,
the control of mind lose,
the possible height of love no one knows,
the poem is not worth a prose.
Like the temper arose,
be the passion to disclose,
the days of life are in rows,
and try to spend them in rejoice.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem