Did I expect the destructive
storm to uproot the poems
from your ground?
Never ever you leave me
but follow all the way,
like cookies, I hear your sound.
What's that love
full of animality,
without mind?
In it no innocence,
air of true love,
I can find.
I won't play storm,
in my guitar rather music,
I'll seek to bind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem