the night did nothing but talk
the rain fell heavily on our heads
we actually did not figure out what was said
the morning is still beautiful
with sun in her hair
there are no regrets to the haze of age
it is accepted as a natural change
then we went to our chosen directions
we meet again tonight and there will be more stories told
not really that interesting
but there is no choice
this road has an end
we think that there is another exit out there
for a new beginning
when the night shall not talk but touch and kiss and
make love and then restfully rest its head upon the morning's breast.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem