Red like fire,
Is the sun in her mourning gown.
Sauntering with desire,
For by the moon she's bound.
The she puts
On hatredness as her shorties,
As she input
Sadness in her abode in her early fourties.
Though, She'll continue with her duties.
17: 15: 08: 18: 43
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem