Meeting you,
At the White Place in New York;
Like the muse of someone working at the Sugar Farm;
Waiting for the black molasses.
The sense of humour!
The sense of life;
But, let nature always show us the ways of the truth.
Love,
For your conduct and, for my conduct;
Meeting you,
At the White Place in New York.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem