With water
slowly flowing
in Black River
night
are wrapped
sadness
in this bare room
Restless soul
a figure faded
in time
slave of his gray
past
Are bitter memories
ranging
with the breath of the wind
drawing
shapeless figures arcane
that animate
inside
an illusory dream
Silently
accompanied by the ticking
an old clock
years
that articulates with motorcycle
perennial
its white hour
under the soft light
a weeping
candle
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem