Shall I caress soft petals as your touch,
In tenderness that blows, felt in the breeze,
I did shout on a ridge that you are such,
And every echo shouting back agrees;
I looked up to the blue to sense your sight,
As evening gust brings scents to tell you're near,
You came with steps so soft as dreams in flight,
Or else, as breath that wafted on my ear;
But you are on an island far away,
Know what I might, in desperation do?
I'll scoop in buckets waters of your sea,
To make dry land to get across to you;
……Those reveries as my reality,
……Has sanity of mine as casualty.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem