Oh the pretty pity, drenched in the rain,
When will we ever see the sun again?
For I, For you, we do not know why,
the weather changes,
only that it does,
The clouds come rolling in,
and as the stars flee the sky,
we know, they exist with us,
but yet we do not know why,
There is so much I need to know,
yet so little I will ever understand,
how can love, be?
what is it? from man to man?
Are we just atoms so carefully placed?
Or just traces from an already written space?
Sometimes I feel I am going in circles,
then others, I am going nowhere at all.
Who named the seasons?
and who chose the rhyme?
Perhaps we will never know,
maybe never, in any life time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I told you that before you have a smart way in writing your poems, go on.