This morning I lock the cold wind out
with a nice hot leather jacket
that I zip close up to my chin
and on the motorbike
my hands are almost frozen,
but my thoughts are with you.
While I pass a string of cars
I wonder if you are stuck in traffic
or already at work?
It’s as if your eyes are burning into my soul
and constantly you accompany me
in my thoughts
to all the places that I go.
As if I will somewhere leave the road
and you will also get off the bike
and in a coffee shop
will take my hands in yours.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem