The mountains of love are very high,
Thousands are failed in their try,
But millions are ready to put at stake,
That's urge of their heart, not their mistake.
One in a thousand may be successful,
In getting true love, being blissful,
But the words that always me bother,
True lovers get never each other.
When they fail in getting their love,
Reason maybe caste, religion or something above,
They name it sacrifice hiding their failure,
Their fake smile shows the changes in their behaviour.
The love's prey are always tameless alive,
Cause they lose their self-control and dive,
To forget her, in art, smoking or in wine,
I've chosen poetry standing in victims' line.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem