Once I was thirsty for your message
Waited years until it arrives
But it took so long that even
The roots of love and memories
Started to wither
Your one message could quench my thirst
But instead you choose to send them
To those who lived in an ocean.
Now don't say I am arrogant
Or I am not the same anymore
Because without your message
My life was like a tree in a desert.
How could a tree recognise
the message or even its sender
When was it never watered?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem