Beyond the pale green of blades now spent,
Within the memory of what was
I ask, 'What will be? '
My eyes see just far enough to blur any hope.
Thinking back when days didn't matter
and time ran with me,
I smile, knowing the essence of everything was new and good.
Now thoughts circle around the next day's passing,
Dragging me into another like a broken wheel
struggling to turn.
How long before I fall like that leaf I saw just yesterday,
Or stop, like a clock whose hands once held hope high.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem