Okun charan (Khmer for 'thank you')

My road leads to a great big iron bird. The iron carriage slowly gathers speed. I want to say goodbye to you — not farewell. I've put into the hollow that has formed Your colours, and your laughter, and your palette of smells, The fanciful shapes of running clouds. And let your melody stand ready on the music stand To soothe whole hosts of other feelings. I'll recall your heat like in a sauna And my heart will shudder at the recent past. And the view of Ta Prohm, till now just a picture, I'll pack into my luggage — that's surely allowed. Those frames get checked later by the services That keep control over the allotted hour. Try to weigh whether your needs really matter And don't keep putting off your dreams time after time. The iron-winged one flies above the fields, The hum of engines, coolness from a little vent. Kampuchea from above — a one with five zeros, Okun charan, that once we met.