Behold the innocence of youth:
A substance of a purest kind,
A holy grail, a sacred truth,
An essence of a human mind.
Whilst early years run the course,
Another tune comes into play,
Its unimaginable force
Molds tender hearts like lumps of clay.
And from these hearts bright flowers grow:
Red roses blush, blue violets sway,
White lily petals spread, aglow,
Inviting throngs of happy days.
'First love won't last, but in the end
We all remember it, good friend.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem