So long we fight in flames
Every moment and each day
Something played all through…
How much they sound,
How much I cursed you,
And at the end of that frightful night
It has nothing to do with the
Next morning might; a crisp
Another day, repeat and repeat
Till showers fill a top as before.
Why the cuckoo sings the first spring?
As though we also start caging
He will hand me one poem
“Retrospective, ” may it be blank and white.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a song in retrospect....good piece