You melt like a candle
as there is no one to hold you with
eroticism and passion;
the same old wick keeps glowing
the warmth, the light has faded;
you can take a chance
to love someone new
for sometime, though not forever;
in that comparison
you will know
that the dry river
bubbles with joy
when the rainfall and the murmur
awakens it again
and rejuvenates its silence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem