My honour withers,
In autumn of your insincerities,
and my colours vanish,
In fates of your desertion,
I get volatile,
In blaze of your,
changing faiths,
and my marrow,
Pains in flames of your deceitful moves,
I get worn-out,
In weathers,
and my grey lead heart,
Is dormant and heavy.
To breathe.
Autmn is always preluding a beautiful spring, hope is the key, nice write!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Light melancholy and emotion shines through this poem..Thanks for sharing.