and i planted...
fruit tree's..
to grow heavy...
and too find...
full each new season...
and common...
my need...
for you daughter..
and a base..
of those tree's..
beats the same..
may you see..
what you hear...
and live in the sun..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
For, who live for the sun, Beams give curlyhaired son. Tsira