I know how many have
in lives long past
imagined that their love
exceeded expectations
even of the gods,
and, due to circumstance
and plain entitlement,
could be a model to the world,
young men would climb
into the deadly snow,
and end their lives
in deep crevasses with a scream.
While long haired girls
stayed by the fountain near the mall
awaiting Edelweiss to dream a silent dream.
I do not care about those folks,
a million would have thought
that love had favoured them.
They would not have a clue
how deeply we have gone,
they would not have a clue.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem