It was always you with your air pensively deep,
Your stride with hesitation on the hill steep,
Your image glimmering through cigarette smoke,
Night after night pity for my heart to evoke;
Always you and myself sitting one another by
And watching the shooting stars in the high sky.
It was always you, honey, with that bright smile
And myself till the war-end waiting all the while.
Let me bring you into our dear wonders' land
For you forever to sing songs of sweet brand
Lulling me into my long nostalgic night-time:
Beside tired weapons thousands of a love rhyme.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem