I do not expect you.
Sunken hours.
And the streets are rocking like slow guards.
I do not expect you.
The thought is sufficient. And long one …
For a Sunday.
A dream
are dreaming
the birch's
twigs.
A dream are dreaming these words of yours inspired me somehow, sufficient to dream...but when it comes across our eyes we thankful!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A good attempt in the chapter of love and dreams. You may like to read my poem, Love and Lust. Thanks