Thinking of you
I look at the empty bench
It was here my love!
You sat daily
And I used to draw pictures
And write poems.
But now I see
Dust, Dust, Dust,
Nothing is left,
Only the empty silence
That mocks
In solemn gloom
Forgetting everything
I wipe away the dust-
For- you may come tomorrow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem