When the angels have flown away,
when the hope of spring has vanished,
then which of your platitudes will sustain me?
When the sky has disappeared into the fog,
and the cold dark night descends,
it is a silent testimony of indifference.
When the most precious longing ceases,
yet un-famished in its desperate need,
the soul subsides to earthly hell.
When love transforms to demonic dreams,
and life only waits for death,
then what can you say to sanctify my path?
When each and every sunrise betrays,
in a pointless prelude to the dying light,
I never for a moment can forget my grief.
As the terminus of a season waits,
the agony lives on to spite what once was,
of angels, spring, light, and hope, and love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely poem and difficult situations make for best poetry Barry!
True that difficult situations make for the best poetry but I would trade every poem I ever wrote for the lasting happiness I never could hold on to.