How much longer, dear breeze, ask him
How much longer I have to wait
Before he plans to show his face again
Work is something, which happens
Can’t I wait for him as he did for me?
Pleasure it would be to wait than
To go alone after having gone with him
There is no joy in the evening
There is no breeze to kiss me
He is not there with me
That is the only awareness I have of pain!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
time and waiting pass with the same velocity........ so plunge in verbosity.............................