What happens to rings?
Some of the are trashy made for decorations
Other rings are made off gold and diamonds
And have a serious implication.
I had a ring once, but threw it away made
I feel hemmed in dislike the idea of
Belonging to someone, even in matters of love.
Still, rings keep circulating from finger
To finger, an endless dance of commitment
That didn't stand the test of time.
The bond between us is our hearts unity
Which only death can erase.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem