Trees reaching out across the water, crossing barriers
of time and space, sensing love of one another and
carrying it in pockets made of lace.
Centuries strive to fulfill everything with a place of
their own, noting nothing leaves it's appointed place
unless it dies.
Lying there silently, love cries out so it may not be
denied the truth, if time and space should choose to
stay aloof.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem