time is the hand that carries love
throughout those tests,
it is careful not to break it
but even if broken
it mends it again as though nothing happened
clear glossy glasses
against the sun on midday
without the scars of any wound
love rides with the wings of time
comforted
in loneliness love sings what is past
well written
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem