I looked for you along the boulevard,
but you were nowhere to be found;
I searched the old familiar haunts,
asked, if you'd been round.
But I wound up with nothing,
the trace of you is gone;
and I am left with memory,
of the old familiar song.
The one in which you leave,
every time we have a fight;
leaving me to face alone,
the coldness of the night.
The emptiness of my own soul,
the solitude of living;
why can't you bury the old hurts,
and be a bit forgiving?
I looked for you in old cafes,
that once, we loved to dine;
but the old cafes are few now,
and they've all lost their shine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Trying to recapture what once was can be a heart-wrenching experience. A lovely, but extremely sad poem.
It was meant to be sad. Thanks for the comment Lora!