I paint upon your silence
The things I long to hear
Each work I have created
Each day just disappears
My palette mixes friend and love
My brush of words to see
The strokes of love we have not made
The friendship that would be
Do you love or do you hate
Or even think or care
About the scenes of what could be
If our two souls were bare
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem