II.
it is kind of heavier.
a voice of the mum reached me
for a moment... and then...
the Dad played the violin
'play beautiful gypsy song from
before years'...
I knew that it was a song
for the mum.
I listened being afraid
to bring up...
if only the image didn't disappear.
the mother dissolved long black hair
rays of sunshine touched it shyly...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem