Leaves are fluttering in the skyway of my eyes.
Water is gently cascading through my mind,
separating reality with the passing of time.
Lovingly, I look at everything, photographing
it upon my memory, so I may always have something
to write about, to think about, to share in a poem,
when I am no longer here.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem