As I sit there
Smoking away my good old days,
Memories both sweet and bitter.
Cremating my own heart,
I see it turning to ashes.
A dimming light
What used to be a vivid spark.
Oh! my imprisoned soul,
Away she goes...free
As smoke-rings
Oh! let me fly
These are my fairy wings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem