To the return I say thanks,
To some of the stains is peace,
And a language begins to melt,
To bend in worse categories.
We felt importance on the day we met,
Yesterday, was there importance?
It yearly changes, the love changes annually,
For the nights are years, against my years,
Against my look and appearance.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem