Your eyes are a pair of shady black balls. Looking at you, like shelter under shady trees along the edge of a clear river flowing with lotus.
I fall down, fall
Drifted in the gentle stream of your eyes; I fall in love. Love flows slowly but surely on the sidelines of your tears that fall on the surface of the face. I was amazed at her.
And in the shade of your gaze, I want to carve poetry.
Because there are color strokes that make everything beautiful.
Make a miss soar in the blue sky.
Then the loaded cloud dropped it as a quiet drizzle at the end of the evening, and gradually became rhinic.
Believe me, I have prepared an umbrella for our shelter, and witnessed the droplets of the longing in the form of seven-colored luminescence adorned twilight.
I picked up your fallen lashes.
It is said that it is a sign of longing.
I made it a sign of the longing for a brush to engrave the lines of poetry in your heart.
Just to see you completely my sincerity.
Because I know my fingers can not make every script as beautiful as your eyes.
Neither my lips nor my eyes.
Nothing compares favorably to your eyes.
