I do see thee
in the eyes of tomorrow
you don't recognize me
with less time to borrow.
I do hear thee
in the soft spoken eve
you speak not to me
and yet I perceive.
I feel thy presence
in the soft blowing winds
you feel my absence
with the march of arachinds.
In what not and what to
there's neither me, nor you!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem