Now as spring light fades into a softly
blue evening I turn to you and ask,
If you can tell me more?
The river doesn't flow as rapid as
before and the lake is dry, no breeze
blows away dust of broken dreams
if you can tell me more tell it now
before light is an empty space and
stillness has lost its echo.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem