You walk up the hill in pure white.
People late from the stars.
When they look down.
What do they see inside of me?
Before there were rockets.
I now read to know about you.
About me it was early to late.
You left me so heavy heart-ed.
Who am I to never reconsider.
All of those that you have.
Like me disappointed.
Threatened by either heaven.
But not by hell, never tell.
If there is nothing left but.
Dark where there is no water.
Where is my father or father.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem