Spirals of longing, when they come
Wonder, wonder at what this life has become.
There were years when it didn't seem as though
The cold wind of exile would suddenly blow;
There were years when life seemed to be
Charted out by a kind, benevolent destiny.
There would be mother, father and the violin.
Some broken strings could create an awful din.
Was it happiness? Was it just an illusion?
I was. They were. No disillusion.
Spirals of longing, suddenly when they come
Wonder, wonder at what this life has become.
Copyright: Rani Turton
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A doleful but well written poem, Rani. Thanks