When your hand will rest at my heart
Be sure it will be safe in memories of past
When your eyes will look at a face
Killed with joy of a transparent gore
A gore that passed through love and fear and was nothing
Just pieces of an old photograph placed at a desk
That our names will be carved after our rest
In a life that could be a hell
or a sun of heaven
Everything is done
My decision was wrong
forgive my fault
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem