The naked street,
Stripped of all its glory of the yester years,
Stood desolate and in fear
Like an island,
Awaiting the return of those who treaded often,
When it was bejewelled like a bride.
At the far end of the desolate street,
Stood a worn out home,
Where a heart resides
Since time unknown.
The shedding of leaves on a wintry night,
Or the blinding fog that gives a fright
Often reminds of a naked comfort,
Sprinkled only with an endless wait for the right one
To shed its inhibitions and bask in a rawness
That felt sore yet left a yearning
To have more.
That love and passion
Never was known
Unless the heart painfully burnt
And danced in unison,
Celebrating a long lost glory
Only a few have won.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem