Again with pouting lips you go away,
My darling, as the country of old days,
And pass your finger all along my back,
So that I thought of you when making love!
But I know, you'll come back again in spring - as
A farmer returns to his own field,
And we'll enjoy our new freedom,
Love for each other, you, in fact - it's me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
enjoy new freedom, good one, thanks.