The rustic gate that parts the fields
still stands until this day
although a little older now
than when we passed its way.
Romantic moments I recall
as we gazed across the bay
swinging on that old rustic gate
and idling our time away.
We knew the excitment of first love
when joy was all we could see...
all my thoughts were only for you,
your heartbeats only for me.
But all that remains is a golden dream
of that old-fashioned rendezvous,
recalling the thrill of blossoming love,
summer adventures spent with you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem