when for the first time you said the rose in my garden looked beautiful
I plucked it for you
Although I knew her beauty will be safe in my garden
Then, you said you liked my hair
I chopped them on the following morning
And parcelled it to you as my souvenir
Although I knew souvenir is to remind
And I’m not to remember but I reside in you
Last time you said you love me
I couldn’t live without you
Just packed up and moved in with you
Since then you stopped saying anything
Maybe you have everything
Or maybe nothing
You grew silent
And our memories louder
So, a part of me still stayed with our memory
And the other
With you,
Again as souvenir
But this time as the souvenir of our happy crazy love!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem