I loved to marry two girls
For their hues and shades but didn’t.
I met them, thirty years after.
I was relieved that I didn’t marry.
Both turned dull with low brain.
The budding beauty is a bad barometer.
One’s looks are a lure to a lad
By which he loses his head is caught.
06.10.2003
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem