At times I fear, when the distance seeps in mist
When gravel becomes weathered
And time’s gust keeps them untraced
And when all the faces
With their tales of emotion
All keep my observations
Without any notion
All graces tanned our skins
But now the cold blanches our skins
All figures goggled by my eyes
From their fiery, glistening, blaze
The ravenous hunger I won’t be able to share
With the same
But the morning may always come
And always the evening brings a cold
But not the same cold tangible
As it has been before
There will always by figures to trigger emotions
Always flares to tan my skin
Leading me to a common trace
But not the same
There will always be;
From all journeys or ventures
A specific breeze; a specific odor
Which I would never want to forget
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem creates a definite aura but I think, and this is just personally, that grammatically it is difficult to follow and that cuts some of its impact.