Perhaps I've run too far from you
and in my pride to surpass the past
I passed your smile without stopping.
But I've glanced. Oh! how I've glanced
so many times, and even now after
these many years of not seeing you
of not dreaming you, I still know by heart
every colour your lips dressed in those mornings
we were waiting for the bus. Back then
in my shyness I had told myself
you could not possibly see
anything good in me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem