A youthful girl is on her way.
She crosses my way every day.
Her way takes her to a boy
She is in love with, people say.
Why should I stand and wait
For her to pass my way every day?
My thatched roof slackens above;
My concrete floor cracking under,
With doors loosened and windows rusting,
Why should I stand and wait
For her to pass my way every day?
I want to see her pass my way
So that I can see her spirited gay.
What else can I look for at this stage?
20.03.2005
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem