I wonder: 'Do you really remember? ..'
I wish to understand - You still the same?
Whom I could call for help, and never
You'll say - Unable, only - No problem.
I wonder, by the way: 'Who are your minion?
Do you have soul's favourite that days? '
But, truely, that's the question fearing
Me with its 'yes', it's like the fusillade.
I tend to say you: 'How I miss you...'
But is that thing for you the necessary one?
I, may be, take no notice of thing, too,
That all sad stories - are about us...
I wonder: 'Do you want and now?
To go through the life, as you did wish...'
But, truely, I'm scared to have answer -
'Excuse me... I'm busy! ..' thus... indeed...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem