that i have decided to keep
they have become so beautiful
unsaid, keeping the grace in
silence, their faces veiled
in secrecy, their bodies pale
they smell the whiteness of fresh
mountain flowers, if they
keep their hands, you can feel
how cold they are, breathing
the cold and trembling hushes
of dying mountains.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem