Getting there we are.
It is inexorable.
Time guides us into nothingness,
Airless place
No space between us.
There is a face...
(who is there? who is there?)
Who is going to mourn
But this face looking at me
In the eye?
Who is going to shed a tear
When my poems die?
I shall rise, i shall be strong
But something happened along the way
And the mirror doesn’t have
Anything else to say.
Lenita T.F ღ * ღ
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem