Sometimes it feels as a eternity back
that we both sat on the porch,
hearing the birds calling at dusk to each other
and sometimes I turn my back
on memories, on every small report
that recalls our being together,
even when I call upon God,
when I see the swallows frolicking in flight
but there are times that I wish
that our lives were much different,
that you still loved me
but we are living separate lives
where yours fit neatly into your ideals
and mine time and again have got to start from scratch.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem