Perhaps I'll see you, so shall I see you with rapture
While living is tender and Time is still a boy?
They were years of love, their length made to be forgotten
By reminiscing distance, as if they were days.
Then days of separation set out, following
Passion with grief, as if they were years.
Then those years passed, so did their folk
As if they both were dreams.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem