Pen in hand of Honey
I, crazy as he sings of her
Crying in the middle of the day, midst of night
Plant a twig, run to brush the snow so it won't die
She, pen in hand, not thinking of Johnny's need for fishing
Waves a flag; given by the unaware; enemies
I go away crying.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem