Let’s go back to when
all we had was hope
and love seemed
mountain peaks away.
Anxious footsteps
in boastful boots,
not yet worn
but already worn out.
I don’t feel the wind
though I know it’s here
by the way her eyes
elude my own.
The view passes by
as I turn away,
sure of its splendour
and its futility.
As I reach the edge
I feel a hand,
it pulls me back
from my only escape.
Let’s turn back to where
the path is uncertain
but we know that
we’ll have each other.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem