You never said the rules of love till then…
What you have said was there's a place of tryst,
And yet no other birds would sing again:
As with their solitudes are with the breeze,
A morning walks ‘neath vibrant rays- it fills
All corners of my woe that will partake,
When day is fair enough it moves me still—
Thro' lost acquaintances; that you forsake.
Thus, migrant birds they came again to perch—
On maple trees and sings with mut'al hymn?
They'll be mine eyes above as I will search—
For my lost Amor at the edge of stream
To ponder with a hopeful attitude,
It re-collects those moments as it should.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem