I wish it would snow,
I wish the sky would cry,
As much as I,
I wish I could go,
Somewhere that would satisfy,
The vital hunger,
That's always by my side,
And makes me wonder,
What makes me tic inside,
For, I'm not a clock
For that matter, always late,
But the one thing I know,
Is that in me, though
There's more love,
Than there is hate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem