Under the bridge there
There is where she stands
Holding not one but two
In her very delicate hands
Across the riverbank
Fast he flew by
Taking not one but two
And on we hear her cry
Lonely by the wind
The famous journey took place
And of these sad cries
We could hear no single trace
Moon and stars were there
Under the bridge that night
And to her dear memory
They shine on the river so bright
She's missed, or so was told
Yet no good will along the way
Dared interfere with what they refer to
As God carefully drawing her way
And everyday at dusk
Her spirit would wander around
Searching that riverbank
For someone to hear its sound
She'd give a final cry
But oh, to no avail
Lonely does this girl stay
As we listen to her tragic tale
Passers would wonder
To whom does this voice belong
Unaware that right under this bridge
Passed a girl, and oh she was young
Passers passed and seasons changed
And that river kept running clear
Everyone got over that old tale
Long long gone is she I fear
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem