at the shores cliff-side, she stood waiting - her tears met the ocean, the same as always
at the way's side, he hesitated, then fallowed the current home -
this story has been written.
the same as pages falling in a book, black ink on white paper - all remains unsettled until, both sides meet again - give words life, you are the reader.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem