Past pages often are too close,
Last ages often far to those...
Unravelled relation wound nowhere,
Untravelled elation found somewhere...
O love, Are you lost or am I?
O love, Far you were, far was I...
Sands of sorrow flow in that hourglass,
Hands of morrow slow in that flower grass...
Just a small chance do give me please,
Just your small glance did give me ease...
Never was I there for you, still am I,
Ever am I there for you, till I die...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
One is sad to find the lovers going their own separate ways thus steamrolling the old romantic relationship built with lots of love, accommodation and understanding. O love, Are you lost or am I? O love, Far you were, far was I...