The cecada eternal humming returns
To us after being buried so long.
It runs incessantly day and night
Like an old fan belt in a car.
Love's trials reminds me of this
Old fan belt. But where must I look
For love? Beyond the knolls and reeds,
That overlook the rivers and streams,
Or deep under the swirling currents
Where the smooth rocks sleep,
If I look well.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem