Burning candles, dying light,
wax softens, time drips away.
Flames dance for a moment longer,
then bend to the darkness.
Shadows grow where warmth once lived,
stretching across silent walls.
A glow lingers, fragile, fading,
caught between presence and absence.
Nothing ends all at once,
only in quiet surrender.
Burning candles, dying light-
a slow farewell to what once was.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem