The wind is in the yard
It plays, goes round,
Makes growling, sound.
Even so
My Soul, my Inner Soul
I feel restless
Going round and round
To find a peace
That transforms more
To a sad restlessness
And sore
Even so
Even so
For
The wind is in the yard
It plays, goes round,
Makes growling, sound.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem