Are you, are you, coming to the tree?
Where we will meet, for the last time in our life.
I will be standing there, waiting to be free,
I ask you to bring, a rope not a knife.
Have you, have you, come to the tree?
Where we will rest together, in our vivid dreams.
We will be counting stars, there are of them three,
We will also listen to, the flow of dreamy streams.
You have, you have, come to the tree,
Where dead men are watching us, as we think to be.
Strange is your appearance, it's appealing to me,
You haven't spoken a word, since we had to flee.
You have fallen asleep, you seem not to respond to me,
Won't you, won't you, be coming to the tree?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem