This ball of fire
Journeyed ahundred folds
After we reached a deadlock.
This season of summer
Brought a thousand dunes
That filled the heart with pain.
This heart of mine
Full but empty
A misty jar.
Traces of the dewy nights
A cemented footsteps
Remained untouched.
amyb
full but empty, I like it, thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A sort of metaphor of a deserted soul, well expressed.