I would come back
but the roads are hidden.
Though many times were ridden
they haven't left any tracks.
I would come as a spring dawn
breaking the winter's yearning,
greeting the beauty of the morning,
the first flowers on the lawn.
I would come as a tender rain,
as an April thaw in springs.
I would grow big wings
but the idea is inane and brings pain.
I would come as a lilac sunset,
as silver or amber early dew.
I would become a real mew,
fly to you and sing a duet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem