You are leaving, so!
What's next, what do I do and where do I go?
We are branches of a same tree
I am nothing without thee
Do I mourn whence you are gone
The thought its self has me battered at heart and torn
Why must the word and the custom of to be gone
Be born
Why can't time freeze at least grow to be slow?
Why must you go?
Crisis will befall when you leave
That is all I know
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem