Once I had a Sword
Not a one that
makes a wound
or pierce or cut
But a scimitar,
Succeeds in penetrating
to one's soul,
which could flourish
one's hope,
Sprays out the
fearlessness
And my Sword can be
better called
as my Smile
Once I had a Sword
Not a one that
makes a wound
or pierce or cut
But a scimitar,
Succeeds in penetrating
to one's soul,
which could flourish
one's hope,
Sprays out the
fearlessness
And my Sword can be
better called
as my Smile