Retracing steps along roads of lonelier times,
escaping crossroads in our mind with a finesse
we don't feel.
Beds of poetical terms, trail along behind,
reminding us of what we thought through life
and it's byways.
Relegating every iota to one poem or another,
portraying moments caught in words of
description as we walked, stopping to smell
the flowers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem