So many faces and growing minds
pass through one's halls and rooms.
Then, they are gone
and new ones come
as autumn flowers bloom
Years storm in and rustle out;
I catch the breeze or miss
a memory
some like before,
a story shared, a twist
So many faces and growing minds
are much of what I've learned,
'though some float past
with their effect,
my endless nest to stir
Two stopped by the other day,
poured in a classic drink:
a simple glass
all black and bubbles
with one red drop in it
Of all the faces and growing minds,
these two I won't forget
as long as there's
a simple glass
with all those things in it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem