The night comes,
Red sunset, orange clouds,
Bright lights are hanging from a black velvet curtain.
How can I enter your dreams,
A crescent moon,
Points to you.
Hoping to return to that June day,
That day that changed everything,
That day you took my heart and soul,
A sleepless night, impossible to forget,
Sorrowful days spent,
Looking for you.
Was our meeting the work of fate?
Was our meeting meant to be?
Or, was our meeting only but a lonely man's dream?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem