I lighted candles,
Burnt incence,
And waited for you.
I took my needles
And started weaving
Two pink dresses,
Two blue trousers,
And finished a shoe.
How tiny our house was,
With six gardens
Beside a lake!
There was only one window,
Under a thin flake,
On which I put the candles
About to faint.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem