My years grew old.
The only dream left
Is the dream of quiet:
The murmur on its calm wings.
Evening made of loneliness.
No one left
To share our mouth,
Our silence.
Around us:
A world we never really knew.
The evening:
The passage from the unknown
To the unknown.
- -
From Aged Mirrors - trilogyofthemirrors.com
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
beautiful thought- The passage from the unknown To the unknown/// this is life of this world