Like two peas in a pod,
Two birds to a feather.
This is the path where lovers meet.
Take a stroll in their arms,
Together they live in a world,
All their own.
Leave each other,
They may,
But always they will have this stroll,
Down lovers lane,
For that time,
All time stood still,
For them she stopped.
The hand of time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem