Taste the sweet air,
as the dove flies by me,
romanticize as the dew is,
and as it was meant to be,
cross the old bridge,
that I walk upon,
solemn and alone,
small but meek,
then, there are the words,
I wish to speak,
alone, alone am I,
as I look to the summer sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem