She was much more than a voice to me,
Yet her face I never had the chance to see,
And so a sweet sounding melody
Is all that remains of her inside of me,
And only while drifting through some dream
Does a wishful vision of her come to be,
This fool's version of reality—
A beauty seen—only through the song she sings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem