The days are becoming so lonely
For everything is drifting and going
Meeting with cracked up ache of its only
From every within thought that's flowing
Though some are still far in their lonesome stay
Longings like weekdays there forever made
As they come into their splintering play
Until they break away and again all fade
I hear the cold in its breezing dry call
In to my window of comfort and warms
The feelings that are driven to the fall
With something beautiful that's lost in blaze
When lives austere indifferently transforms
Into oblivion darkness - its many ways
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem