Last night my heart poured out like rain
in the wuthering thought of
the past, and the present
they struck through the sky
trying to break our silence, but in vain
if what I've always been trying is to understand
then I must admit
every bit of the understanding longs to be understood
but if otherwise, they would stay
quietly as the pool of rain
and if you should ever return
you would see your reflection in it
as clear as the very first day
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem