Nobody sees the colour
That I wrote on a paper, on the wall
Which we call life.
So sad this is now
Becouse no man knows for me.
My words, my rhymes;
They seem now so meaningles,
Without a reason, without a purpuse.
What shall I to do with this
Romance, words that kill-
That are empty?
That are haunted with pieces of nightmares I dream
At a misty day.
Will I die
From so much love?
Will I forgive me
For doing absolutley nothing?
Will I...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wonderful....poemo Roger