remember how you tell a story to a friend
who is walking with you towards a mountain,
past 3 hours, and seemingly nothing so tiresome
is happening,
the conversation has a life of its own, and you
do not notice it, and time shrinks and then it
seemingly becomes inexistent,
how can the feet and arms and hands not notice?
how could hunger and thirst be beaten, by such
word as friendship.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes friendships are that good. So very well penned. Thank-you.