i walk through
rusty pages of our album
recalling a morning-glow forever gone
a weary wanderer
struggling over desert sand
chasing a mirage on nights alone
and time flows
like dead fish
slowly winding up to the eternal void
as my broken quill
bleeds ballads of your name
spilling the sun over memory's graveyard
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem