I hear drops falling down,
making silence just a dust in my memories.
I hear drops falling down,
no matters if it's raining, or dry as now.
It might be something,
indescribable.
Still, silence can be
very pricy thing.
Sometimes, it makes me
feeling. You,
near me. Dropping your
ideas, disturbing the golden silence.
Someone would say, loneliness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem