I loved her, but she suddenly went away.
I would have pleaded with her and begged her to stay.
And even though it's pouring rain,
I feel like throwing myself through the window pane.
I remember how we touched and held hands night after night.
She always fixed her long hair just right.
Sometimes it was black and sometimes it was red.
Without her, I'm better off dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem