They met, as it were, in a mist,
Pale, curious, eager, uncertain.
When each clasped the other and kissed,
The mist rolled aside like a curtain.
There were fields of delight to explore,
Where it seemed that their lips could not sever.
Now their lips are as lone as before
And the cold mist is thicker than ever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
first love is the deepest