In the elegant cups painted in a style of 'gold',
Amber tea pours, giving us a pleasant warming.
But its tonic taste is spoiled by the sadness' salt,
And my drink gets more bitter with the next dawning.
Let me forget the dreams' hero, oh my God, -
It is not for me his smile and his soul soaring,
Wave of thick hair, shining of black eyes... In short,
That nice figure is - only a fantasy's drawing.
Leaving a hole in the chest and a haunting thought,
Life passes by somewhere, just adding longing.
There is no sugar in my cup and tea is getting cold,
So I feel the bitter taste now every morning...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I liked your use of color and diction in this poem—I.e. "sadness' salt". Your descriptions are evocative, effective, affective.