He often walked the woods
in fair or windy weather
but, upon this plain he strolls no more
except across my memory
I never knew his name,
and can't recall his face
a mysterious man to me, a tragedy we wall saw coming
But all the same, I thought he would stay
Now I have lost him to the woods
footsteps faded in the mud
If only the winds would return him again
so, he might stand by me once again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem