The child I was came to me
once,
a strange face
He said nothing We walked
each of us glancing at the other in silence, our steps
a strange river running in between
We were brought together by good manners
and these sheets now flying in the wind
then we split,
a forest written by earth
watered by the seasons' change.
Child who once was, come forth—
What brings us together now,
and what do we have to say?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem