The cello
speaks more
of sorrow
than joy-
she has depth
at her heart-
tears of hers
they sacredly flow-
every single note
born from the throe
of silent love
stirs the longing heart
that awaits its blessing
upon the morrow--
when the night closes in
and light gleams through the window
another tale of love unrequited
will be retold as has been long ago
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Truly amazing!