Took my love through Hell;
She soaked in the flames—
Dispatch, she's ready.
Flee on a plane.
When this day comes,
I'll lie awake,
Staring at the ceiling,
Dreaming of fate,
As done those times
I saw her with him—
The perfect them,
Their perfect win.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem