Do not follow me into the chambers
Of my highly guarded silence
And evoke the desire to hum
The sad tunes of a forgotten song
Do not appear on my barren lips
Deprived of the springs of smile
And mend the pain of deserted life
With formless reasons and lies
Do not dig the grave of my past
That conceals deceased moments
And dropp the remains on my bed
When I retire to a forsaken sleep
Do not mess up the yards of heart
With crumbled vestiges of love
And introduce my bleak eyes to tears
Washing away my petite dreams
Do not stick to my dangling roots
Like the desperate particles of earth
And follow my soul into its journey
When death harvests my corporeal life
Do not cling to me oh! my desolate memory! ! ! ! ! ! !
Do not stick to my dangling roots Like the desperate particles of earth how beautiful these lines are! your imagination and metophars are unparallel.
Painful memories need to be desolated..Great concept..well narrated... Great poem!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Memories can be sad, some recall happy moments, but living Now is best.