the furnace that once burned bright in the core of my soul
no longer burns light, yet is hindered with coal
my body is vacant, an empty old sack
strings attached to handles now embed my bent back
you speak of feelings, and I do not understand
I barely know what life is, or where I- from it, stand.
I've lost all passions, and all meanings of living.
I only move, as the earth does on its axis-unwillingly spinning
Once my fire could like the dark sky, and now its shimmers
Vaguely in the starred eyes.
An old worn hand reaches from the other side
And I unknowingly turn-with eyes wide.
Could it be I have made contact with a beating heart?
Oh no, it is only death who has finally come for his part.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That was amazing, great flow and truism in your words.