I never think of you but were I to,
were you to visit this too busy head
that spills ideas but not one thought of you,
you'd come, I know, as I lie in my bed
where dreams come, for who can command their dreams?
You'd laugh again and smile and hold me tight
remind me to remember all our schemes.
With morning comes another day, new light,
nightime and what it held becomes the past
a country where I cannot come again;
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem