Your fingers could play these old keyboards
on this tarnished piano,
which is our love.
They would crack the same sound.
It might mean sweet music
while trying to keep our disappearing reality.
You're still in my love memory, although sometimes,
I need to make it a new reality.
You and your very wished piano were against
my loneliness.
You know I cannot come to our place,
although once, a long time ago,
I swore to do everything to be there.
I keep this love safe in my heart.
Another sky for your eyes
and another living space
to adapt could quench your thirst for freedom.
It seems that freedom without love
is possible,
but love without freedom is not possible.
Poem by Marieta Maglas
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your poem is so deliciously delicate...The beauty of longing, loving, sorrow and memory...all wrapped in a beautiful symphony that long lingers on.... Well Done!