thoughts of you fade in front of me
like wisps of smoke between my fingertips.
in the back of my mind
your voice echos
calling me back to castles and princes.
ladies gracefully taking their place
in the grand halls of life.
my eye on the world watches intently
its as if only what I see really exists,
and even then it only exists when I see it
my hope fades as the days pass into evening shadow
I've learned to feast alone in the grand hall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem