I was often a greyscale morning
who greets people without appealing
Im just a greyscale morning
who cannot be a great something
but one child lay rested upon me
who shares his sorrow under a tree
who cares for someone like me
yet cannot express as i can't be
Im just a greyscale morning of dullness
who just kept thinking about this kindness
of this particular child with sadness
we're one now, sad with oneness
Im thinking why we cannot be happy
while we are this and can be happy
this child is a morning like me
who loves to be an afternoon like me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem