Twilight's garden.
Little by little
We send roots
Inside ourselves.
Silent evening.
Even the questions
Are too old and fatigued
To believe in answers.
The garden of the evening.
Flowers full of old patience.
Even time becomes
A distant, slow murmur.
---
From Aged Mirrors - trilogyofthemirrors.com
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem