Her small hands in white gloves
seemed as fragile as porcelain
when I first saw her on an autumn street.
All my thoughts of her
are like a fairytale
in a child's heart.
If I could live forever,
I wouldn't fall in love again
with anybody else.
All my dreams
would see her smiling
like the very first summer sunrise.
I always thought
that we would marry
in the small church
near the park
where our children would play.
Time has been
both my friend and enemy
bringing my first vision of her
and then letting it linger unchanged
down through tender melancholy days.
I would never curse my life
like one might revoke
the citizenship of their birth;
no matter how lonely I become,
I'll still see her walking through the leaves
touching my heart as gently
as she moves her ballerina feet
along her path,
and I really consider every moment
worthy of the joy and pain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem