Our body: as old as our years.
We live our last life.
We die our last death.
Crepuscular hours.
We're too fatigued to rebel:
To defend ourselves
Against ourselves.
It's late in my soul.
The years
Make the world more remote.
Myself- closer.
The solitude of the evening:
Our weakness.
Our strength.
- -
From Aged Mirrors - trilogyofthemirrors.com
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
greatly written- solitude of evening is our weakness if we are in fear and our strength if we are facing it bravely! (of age) its great