As I think of her time moves like a snail.
When I don't think of her,
I am in agony.
I desire to converse with her,
But she is so quiet at times.
I long for those lengthy talks
I obtain much pleasure from.
Why must I wait so long on her?
It fills me with so much grief.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem