On a cold day when wild winds blow
You told me you must go
To other lands where rivers roar
and just like your hair flow.
Where stars and planets in the skies
Shine in your night-black eyes
And where the bird of wayward Fortune
On the horizon flies.
The road calls you, you must go,
There's nothing I can do, I know,
For me just broken stones are left
To make me feel so low.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem