How can it be that the wind blows by,
the world stand still,
and the night fly by.
All that can be,
becomes no more,
as the memory of love becomes unfold
as day comes night and night come day
as the memory of love slowly fades away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very well done..nothing thats good last longs, i uderstand