The appearing stars,
the clover, the hooved trail
through the meadow, cows
grazing, watching us pass,
munching their evening meal,
our talk sweet and true
though we won't remember
how significant the day was
or what we talked of, the sun,
like a good friend not ready
to go home, lingers at the door
unwilling to say goodbye.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very beautiful poem.