Tell me,
Can I be an aid?
All I did was stare at the shelf
The shelf,
From what your anguish had made
And where the books were written by oneself
There is a chapter where I can relate
Inside of a story about a lover's blade
I glared at those words
There is what I can say,
Don't be deluded
by the smile of an amity,
Don't let your fondness
be targeted for larceny,
But yet,
don't turn into a huge isolated vacancy
I've been there and darling,
there's zero beauty
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem