The skies are clear Even I am not here, but Faraway where my heart is near, There is the pretty image of the rock of suicide Lives happily, wonderfully, and greatly in my side, There is the pretty Patos Orchard That dwells in my mind with great regard, There is the image of our streets That remains everlasting in my tweets, There is the image of my childhood That reminds me of my adulthood, I have the pretty image of my classmates That is a great page of my roommates, There is the image of our house's love That remained number one in our ties' love, Although there are gloomy clouds, but There is a pretty voice singing in rounds, Bad times will go Simply it's low, then Life goes on and on Because everything goes on.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem