the fire that you
see is very much different
to the fire that you
touch with your
bare fingers,
the smell of the rose is
much different to the taste of
each petal,
the memory of you is far different
from the you that is now beside in bed
as the city begins to die,
as the moon begins its journey from sky to sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the memory of you is far different from the you that is now beside in bed A truth well described, true to the core. Thanks poet for the sharing. 10 for it.