I hesitate and fear moves me away
I came looking for your reflection
And it followed me everywhere
Am I in the same scenes
Or is it that you have become me
And we are now on the same coin
This game was never mine
The aim wasn't mine
It was an evening that presented itself
Through light bulbs and the wrinkles in the waves
That perfume and the autumn air
Who was seeking who
Is there anyone to blame
Hands met first
Then the eyes, a story started from scratch
And the candles of conscience were blown away
I followed the signs
I fought my own pride
For that evening of a lonely crusade
Let it all wash down by these mazes of sins
Let it come out and finds its own end
We would meet again under this willow tree
With kites hanging and swaying their bodies
Celebrating their bonded freedom to the hilt
Again the hands would meet
Then the eyes would search its scratch
Till we follow the skyline and see it happen again
In this dream of midnight dreams
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem