From My Art Gallery
I often get lost in the imagination at night,
Of what the weather is like in the city you are living through
Do you ever get wet when it rains?
When the yellow leaves of autumn are scattered,
Do you also gather them?
When the gusts of icy winds touch your face,
Do you take a mug of coffee and sit at the window
To feel that icy wind inside your heart?
Listen, I spend most of the night in the imaginary city
Where there is a small heavenly house by the water with a thick shade of a poplar tree,
I’m sitting by the window with you, drinking coffee and talking a lot