Far is the Miles in which we cannot see.
Even truth has turned into denial.
Where is the pleasure if not in passion, why have eyes if one cannot see.
Alas, the moon hides while we live to Wait.
Why hide when knowledge is what we want. And although it's a lesson of patience. It rewards us in time.
As those who say its easy, speak from over the fens.
You are a collection, part of the special elements that could never die.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Adieny This is a good piece of poetry