Frequent the notes of the piano
That visit the hollow of trees
The wind and its climbing voice
Travel through the seven seas
Desert sands and falling hills
Gradually puncture an iceberg
Through your strange heart
Don't let the clock know
The time of his or her arrival
Far and wide was the search
Tired are the hands that rowed
The boat broke, it cuts through
But stay, even if it's a drowning
In your own patient blood
She is real, look into the light;
Even if she is mere pieces
She will get there to cup you
And the rest of your soul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem