When something is left it loses its sheen
As the particles of time settle and tarnish the dream
Layering hours into days
And months into years
Coagulating between the memories and now
Clogging the void
Until it is full and dried all the tears
Just as water rushes in
Where the ladle has been
The level may sink, but the surface remains
And the chasm that was full of you and me
Can be nothing more than an ever growing distant memory.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem