An ancient triangle, a golden light, resting upon a hill.
Such a beautiful legend, but then the dream fades. I lean on my window sill.
'If only, if only.' I think to myself. 'If only the stories were real.'
But because this life continues around me, I simply turn on my heel.
So I'm going to live my life like a should. Because dreaming of a fairytale, does no good.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem