A laughter as innocent as a mirror is lost,
Plunged in stillness and silence by...
All can only repent and regret;
For the mouth opens no more than the still;
Sad words joined by tears.
And shudder us like yellow falling leaves,
Sobbing are, -
The only worth all granting.
It is to be learned-
This silence and this burning,
But only by the one who
Spends out himself again.
Then, drop by drop, sad and dismay,
Shall string some constant harmony, -
Harsh caper for all those who step
The legend of their youth into the noon.
“Kind words are more than a ritual, ”
Empty eyes staring in the air,
“It is the dead who are happy,
And all must hurry to that road.”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
really nice poem it is. Thank for these thoughts I Invite you to read my poems.