I ask
Questions
Of you,
I hear them
Echoing
Down the
Steps of time
In vain.
They give
A sharp cry
And die.
I mourn their
Passing,
But so many
Have died
I no longer
Remember
Them.
Questions I am
Immersed in
I ask you,
It is as if you
Do not
Hear.
They cling to
Life
Willing you to
Answer,
But they are
Not heard.
And go
Unnoticed.
They
Die
Unfulfilled.
..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
thank you for such a delicate, well structured and beautiful poem.- natalie