There is a distant shore
Where we will meet once more
Till then I gather pebbles to tread ground
Cover distance that confounds
I mark the sky with trails of tears
Wiling away unspent years
The clock has done litte for reprieve
Stopping, bolting, same dichotomy
If I spend nights in strange hands
Indulge pleasure in foreign lands
The morning brings with it her reality
The one I love will never be here with me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem