i can see my favorite hill
sending me back in time
i feel moisting in my eye
how many poems written
up on that grassy temple
it run out my tiny fingers
grass that has tickled my feet
where you gently has taken sit
we talk about stories not so great
but being with you is my only best
can you remember now, i sigh
passing days missing you; i cry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem