The wheels of his wheelchair
Rolling over the moving sun
A ceramic plate, blue and old
Covered with shattered lilacs
Today is Saturday, someone
in a pair of fisherman's shoes
The weather no good, too cold
A hasty rain beats on his breath
Wind plays with running shadows
He wonders if he rides on a cloud
The petals quietly lie in the plate
The dying aroma is much to be pitied
a silent emotions of sadness and affections Beautiful write
A really beautiful poem, with a tinge of sadness weaved into it. The metaphors, vividly described, invoke the emotions. Thank you for sharing it, Cigeng.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The dying aroma is much to be pitied. Thanks for sharing.