if only the hill and trees could speak
it could have told you, how stupid and foolish have you been
waking up too early and doing all the things that others could have done for you
feeding the lazy ones, giving flowers to the uncaring, writing letters unanswered
loving much where they love you not, writing poems to cyberspace, thinking that
the stars too distant from you glisten to listen
and you speak to all these trees and hills that do not speak to you
and you write all these inanimate silence a letter: i know what love is and i keep on loving no matter what, for unlike you i am animated with love itself,
for love touches and speaks and cares and always wanting to be infinite.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem