When the leaves touch down, there remains a fire,
So much deeper than merely words.
Say all that you want me to hear, love,
Because both of us know we'll burn.
Woods lie in the dark, await the spark;
There's more than one way to flame.
No one dares come at this time of day;
We're the best made of company.
Don't let death consume;
Breathe, breathe again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem