My soul weary inside her rugs of flesh
Wrapping my decaying bones,
Dry of their marrow, drained,
With a fading taste,
Blurry eyes, a faint scent,
Silent to the surrounding,
The forgotten tune of a true sparrow
Where wishes linger in memories
Of how it used to be,
But hungry for the apple of youth,
Watching a love that drifted away
And the moving arms of a wall clock,
Before I rest in an eternal sleep
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem