</>it used to be right.
but now it's not alright.
my mistake; holding the hand of the clock
instead of considering 'bout your thought.
my fault; holding the hand of the bloke
instead of grasping your love note...
let them be mistaken,
in case all are proper now.
she is a little toy rabbit
i am holding it
soft it is...
i love its pink hands.
holding its hand is like holding love
and it cannot be easier...
i 've mistaken it again;
we're not flying with our own effort but
being blown by the lovely wind, ...
we're not flying in the sky of the globe
but
up in the sky of the heaven.
Hands put together,
what more can it mean?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem