To Beloved
You wanted to be my beloved.
But becoming a housewife in the long run,
You transformed air into storm.
My heart trembles now in that storm.
To King
You wanted to be a king.
But ascending the throne,
You became a robber.
Now people flee away
Seeing you.
To Poet
Going to be a poet,
You became an intellectual.
Now your mouth is only active
Because your pen has run out
And has become a dead canal.
