Every day that comes again
it seems it feels much hotter
than the day before it rained.
I am the flame that keeps all
others hotter than you crest.
Outside for me it grows a little
colder than the day before.
From they,
you would not know I can not tell.
Knowing even as I speak it now.
I linger every single day.
You are living only now being seven.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem