Now this time is going away
Into the nowhere of a land
Meeting the grayness of its day
Letting you not understand
Why it’s so for a while
Given the makes that you do
This is your own kind of style
You should get on to it too
Follow me down to my own
Where I've forgotten to remember
In the interior of this town
Playfully grounds of amber
Rusting leaves standing alone
Where they once glowed for mores
Summer skies into their own
Opening spaces and days
I had a dream to forget
Nothing in there ever was
I don't now really regret
Just let things go on and pass
For time always is here
Standing at the outsider’s gate
Never be though of it aware
Because it’s curved - never strait
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem