Just said I,
I love you,
She said to me,
I love you
And leaving our homes,
We kept gazing at, smiling, waving the hands
And greeting
And gesturing.
Is this called love,
Love and its madness,
Let the spring come,
I shall hand over wild blossoms
Which but the love-mad cuckoos know it well.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem