The air is pure and clean,
my cabin, rests astride a
creek of ice cold milk, moist
the strawberries jump into
my lowered budget, made
of wood.Eternal her spring
lays at the top, unbridgeable.
When you come, please try
and remember,) I(am lost.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
to be lost is so sad oneday someone will find you and i hope you take their hand