</>You turn to meand I stroke your
red, red hair.
Softly I lay your
head on my lap,
while I comb out
all the small stormstangled in your hair.
You sleep.
Peace is a city
both of us willsee so little of
but here in this
small apartment,
between the wordless
moments, we can seeoutside our window
the city lights
far off in the distance.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem