Nature when we look what all see
Walking hand in hand up, tall hills.
Chasing down the sun, dusk comes night.
Parting at last, floating past evening clouds.
Looking up at the stars at the moon.
Déjà vu, when she comes so often,
as I lay sleeping, I often dream but of you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem