It calls your name.
You are set by the widow still so quiet.
Listing to the wind blow as it hits the window.
You hear the sound so humble against the pane
As the wind calls your name.
As you sit on the pouch
The chimes do blow.
They play the music of your name
Recalls your name as it blows
Saying Some day you will hear
Good calls your name.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem