Its April n I don't even care,
Its not April.....fool; when I say I love you dear.
It is real, n that's all I feel,
Its my will.....Boo; even if I had to b on d hill.
U can't kill but to heal it,
Work in my ways; there will be no waste.
Rock feels on ur waist;
Blues on ur breast.
Lay ur head on my chest,
Relax its a game....not a game of chess
Its a game of thought, not of chance
A true game of emotions n romances
Its April, n I don't even care,
Its April fool when I say I hate You.
Its April, I love u.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem