This was about Jean
But it is so late
The poet may be dead
So it is for now
That I go to hide
For tomorrow
Let a few gentle words
Born in a dream
Have a chance to grow wide
Across the lines
Who can know?
Where one's gone
When I don't know
Where you hide
But know you
You are here
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Words grow beyond the figment of death.