If you’re a leave,
dangling from a branch in Autumn,
then I’m the tree.
I know the role, there’s not much to it,
‘cause you’ll be near,
and if a breeze blows you form my branches
you’ll fall, but I’ll be there.
If you’re a mere,
whenever winter comes, I’ll be ice
and find you there.
You won’t expect it, I’ll scream surprise
and then keep you warm.
I know my hands will be as cold as hell,
but you won’t mind ‘cause you’ll be home.
If you’re the rain,
falling to the ground so far below us,
I’ll go insane
and pull you back up so you’d never leave again,
‘cause with you close
all my rain clouds will be complete.
It’s just how our story goes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem