Whenever I write
Poetry makes you grieve.
And I write soft words
With loving air
For good and fair.
Whenever I move forward
Life makes you grieve.
But I live with hope
For you with all
Moving stories of love.
And I write
With light and sorrows
And I live
With the joy of sparrows.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem