Standing on the shore of relationships
I see the waves of love turning up
One by one and then diminishing
Going deep to the base
To never return.
What remains
Is the bunch of memories
Giving life to the body to carry
And live this otherwise a dead life.
lovely poem boy keep going the surfs of luck aare coming
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love can be a prickly thorn on a gentle rose.