They carry us all over
Like bubbles of childhood,
With the voice of mermaid
They withdraw us,
Become heavy
Like the stones of Sisyphus
In moments of agony,
Never to be melted.
They fly out artfully
From the soul faded away.
They killed Glory
Of the gladiator in Arena
They run in a hurry
After the soft eyes,
Never to be dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A very sweet and nicely written poem, Albina. Thanks