The morning light touches your face,
soft and unyielding,
as if it knows the shape of love.
Your voice lingers in the air,
not as sound,
but as something I carry within.
Each moment stretches,
woven into a tapestry of us-
a story without an ending.
I am here,
not as a fleeting shadow,
but as something constant,
forever yours.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem