It was under this now burnt tree I buried you under
A pile of Autumn leaves, I rememer you sqealing
With the delight of a girl who had just found love.
That special moment that enables us to ignore
The dampness of the leaves, the slime and the dirt
Only thinking and feeling the utopia of the moment.
I fell onto and into you, and there on the blanket
Of season change we overlooked the fragility of love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh, how those memories live on and on. I really enjoyed the abandonment of love in this poem, Vincent (or is it James?) Love, Fran xx