I'm inscribing these lines very slowly
While the cold draft is touching my feet.
Only night is reflected in pupils - I'm lonely,
And the demons are lurking the street.
I'm stretching my hands to the stars;
They are flitting sadly around.
These words are my lifeless memoirs:
Never uttered, solely written down.
I'm not angry when the wind blows them away:
Let them whirl, otherwise - into the fire.
My truth is naive, it does not overweight
Her name is for good while mine has expired.
My tremulous lashes made the shadows leave.
I've sent it again" "Hi, how is life? "
No reason, just courtesy, and no deceit
And cursed myself for the hundredth time.
© Anna Naumovych
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Not necessarily needs to curse yourself, dear poetess. BUT this is an excellent poem, loveliest worded and with the best end rhymes. WOW! I have truly enjoyed this. The message is understood, it is really an amazing poem. No need to curse yourself. Creating poems will fill life's loneliness and you won't ever feel that being lonely again.10+