As I sat brooding on a park bench,
a long time I asked,
Is the time like I picked the fruit?
Then learn to live in distant continents,
anyone could borrow but later return it
My clothes were just borrowing,
the most ancient of Mine just love,
when all of a sudden fruits fall,
I pick just one as a souvenir
(2011)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem