My window stands above the patch
And looks down at those gold delights.
Resting under the shadow of my panes
Inviting me frequently to come and glance.
Gazing, I start to brood over times spent
On old friends, laughter and frolic.
Lying under the mangrove slapdash
Dancing gold patch happy on our sides.
Same gold delights but a different me today.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem