With patience I wait upon my words, with scrolls full of simple things we won’t find
In this dream I alone chase away memories and the lost words that now forever rest behind
Your world of beauty and innocence, the world forbidden from this desire I have inside
You are all my reasons I write of all the sweetest words that in my heart forever hide
There are simple things that in this world we won’t find, they were made and meant to pass us by
I this world we are sometimes driven by mysterious themes of loneliness
In the end our history finds us and takes us back to the basics…and we always wonder why
It is the simple things we won’t find, that keeps me writing even though I die sweetly in stillness
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yeah! t'is true, smple t'ings we won't find