Cold droplets running slowly,
The crystallised water glistening,
Subtle lights gazing down,
The sharp shards shimmering.
Salty tears dancing in the air,
The droplets castaways into the silver mist.
The sliver of metallic fog rolling,
Words echoing like a twist.
The storm of the fated encased,
Wisps of souls spinning above,
Their figures anchored into the red strings,
Their life fleeting like a dove.
At the eye they dance,
Their bodies together as one,
The memories etched and carved,
The silky threads woven and spun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem