Are you thinking of me, from your
Golden braids, your windblown tresses?
The jazzing is cerulean, phosphorous,
It steals my heart towards yours.
Is it a chocolate box, a red
Red bouquet, you are so preciously awaiting?
My gift to you, instead, so simple,
Is this dreaming, quiet fancy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem