Our years grew old.
Little by little we learn
How to accept ourselves:
Another name of love.
Evening's garden.
The roots of our sadness:
Tears with earth in their mouth.
Slowly, gradually
Tears like a diamond:
A stone made of time and pain.
- -
From Aged Mirrors - trilogyofthemirrors.com
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem