with your pretty voice
I write; write endlessly
imagining you're near me
a slight sound I will stop
maybe your spirit came up
then my mind will trace back
I have your words deep inside
I replay them when I wake up
which flashes my inner fire
and there I go threading life
sometimes there are blotches
I stumble, but thinking of you
it's magical I would recover
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem