Even if my body
hides your mind.
Our house burns down
around us.
What should I do,
Where will you go.
Will we sleep at all.
I need the axe again
keep back.
Plant flowers in your bed.
The sky it never waits
it rains,
come winter it is cold.
Under the sky in fresh
mown hay,
untill we are home again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
well written lovely poem 10