As not to disturb the wind through which she passes
I steal what I can from her view
Whereby we sit beneath bended grasses
Oft did I wonder if she knew
Beneath those all too knowledgeable eyes
Who oft preferred the sight of stars to me
Whose glance could summon the heart that daily dies
Did they know it dies for she
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem