They stripped me of my sword as a warrior
my pen as a poet
my brush as a painter
and my guitar as a Gypsy
On my way to the grave
they returned to me my belongings
So what can I say to them
more than the violin says to the storm
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
what can I say, good write, thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.