when the cararvan of
the life
will be passed by
only dusts will be seen
remaining in the airs
telling the longing tales
of our loving memories
some broken hearts
some waiting eyes
some lost loves
some marks of desertion
spoiled moon faces
in the soil
neither you
will be unfaithful anymore
nor i will be faithful for ever
it will be
just a tale of evenings
passed by blooming
hand in hand
or withered
and gone with winds
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem