I'm a crazy old man now,
a poet blinded by silly illusions,
songs and hopes,
nothing more but fantasies,
laughs and smiles,
painful, grotesque,
from the subconscious souls
of lost loves
and the happy days.
There's nothing left
of those memories,
victims of fate.
The women that got away,
the lips I couldn't kiss,
the past that was,
a past of lost loves.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem