To love is to love back,
And so is it to hate.
I grasp you tighter than before
And know of no more fate.
To think is to be thought of,
How shall I think of you?
Shall it be by tears
Or by moments trust and true?
To trust is to be trusted,
Fragile as a china glass.
When our rafting log subside
Shall it swallow us?
To sing is to be sung of
All the birds and roses know
There you see them sing and dance
For you than before.
To joy is to be smiled at
And so the sunshine shines
And then you smile for me at heart
Beneath the river pines.
To be me is to be you.
So i keep me sound and safe
You die i die and die when you die
And sorrow to a strafe.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It is true, it has to happen both.