That day Your face was sad, dear Even today The same sadness brings me closer to you I have always seen sad people around me But your sadness Is like that big house in our village Beautiful and big house
Empty house, A new house Making noises But sadness is a thousand times more than that While people say- 'I am very talkative.' I can't remain silent even for a minute Sadness resides on your young face like a calm and serious mature youth And your eyes like two wells draw compassion from the depths
Compassion as pale as the sea With a courageous smile How are you? Where are you from? What is your name? All this became meaningless when you said - what is there in a name? And we got off the bus just a minute later So many days so many years so many centuries passed
Then I met you I recognized you I found the same sadness Which was your permanent emotion I love poems And I find reading as enjoyable as travelling the world You know so many people You meet so many people well You are distant even after being close to so many people You hide so many things in your eyes
I have fallen in love with you Your eyes are so pure and innocent I am so afraid of you, I respect you too I read your magazines with poems I debate on them I help you in your work I give you suggestions But how can I tell you, dear
When I talk to you about all the things in the world At that time your eyes seem the most beautiful and lovely to me I am not afraid of anyone I am so close to you That if I extend my hand I can close you in my fist But I am strange too Strange I am close to you only by saying I am close to you I cannot say this by saying That is why today I am writing this letter and saying Dear, I love you...
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