The Custom of Love

Often solitude is found,

Even my ownness melts away later.

Step her by the way goes a the way..

Even if it is straight, it turns.

Staring into the mirror's eyes,

I don't know who will fool me.

The custom of love has always been,

The butterfly always burns on the lamp.

I have found friends like Shivam here,

All the prices of the heart are known in the same way.