She is hiding something,
As a sinful being,
Endeavours his secrecy to bury,
As if a dead man taking with him the mystery.
I can forgive everything except deception,
Since I can’t stand cultivating tension,
Within my very brain,
There’s no room for pain.
If my love is true,
She will be remorseful much so.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem