The clouds in the sky are always changing,
And everything comes, and then it all goes;
We love doing sketches and then rearranging,
From whatever thinking our seed then grows.
Sometimes the blues is all overridden,
With love and our feelings just lying in dust;
We didn't know what in affection was hidden;
And everything there we thought was a must.
We need someone other to tell that's why,
People are always misjudging their heart;
And love and all feelings just wither and die,
Then comes the time we anew again start.
Though clouds are like this - no love need to be,
We just have to listen and know what to see.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem