Of you I ask and is it true?
That love when blind will pass.
Lead me not far off,
A rose no longer red or white is
Yellow now.
I gave thanks for what was mine,
And now look back.
Knowing where you are and how it tastes.
And I ask of you again of you I ask,
Once before the door is closed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem