I am lost without you.
You all though and did I.
How ever bright the season it was.
What has passed and what is to come?
Gone it was but not gone.
As for the wind and floating I.
Hence more never less burns the candle.
Speak not of the length or the width.
Bright as the flame come at noon.
To some it was never bourne.
As light as the foam in the sea.
Dearly, I have found come find me still,
and beautiful, however bright was your mind.
Oh love me deeply - Turn it off.
For this feeling,
to the ear the ryme is so beautiful.
Green leaves to the blind each one person.
The color of green runs ahead of the wind.
The rainstorm of your love, hurries in.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem