This morning I called my name on my own
But it sounded strange like that of an unknown.
It turned out that I had forgotten my self of gold,
How thus to ask if one still remembers things of old!
Yesterday was different from today's situation,
So a faithful bride is a promise for next incarnation.
The telephone ringing caused me distress,
The poem you read badly ruffled my soul to depress.
From now on, I have lost you - oh, my!
I've become a crane to call its flock in the foggy sky,
Flying towards the pinnacle of loneliness sphere
Giving back to you the yellow valley, my dear!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem