This morning I'm sending you a poem
With lanes that look like empty…
‘Cause yourself can make assumptions for what I wonted to say
I'll leave all in your hands
Write on it, what ever you wont
Complete them like at the last desire
That can't tell...
Just as if you and me
Had each other hugging
And saying for last time
Farewell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem