Fumes of bubbles begins to blown
the wings of fire settle into the
most terrible chapter of a
lasting end
perhaps the mind started to twig
and the mind likes to whisper
of what is yesterday after today
oh! come little angel and kiss
the words of goodbye, for what ever
is given the hands will always
keep the fingers
just let your palm open, soon the
dew will drop its droplets...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem