Do you fight the aproaching night,
or do you accept the next mornings' dawn,
basking in the newness of the day?
Do you hide in man made light,
or do you dream under starlit skies,
counting lonesome satelites?
Is loneliness your friend,
or do you shelter behind a fimiliar stranger,
savouring widespread meetings?
Will your empty bed embrace you,
or will almost forgotten memories comfort you,
protecting your fragile soul?
Is your heart just another empty room,
or is it furnished with a resting passion,
slumbering restless next to the fire?
Do you still dream,
or are your ambitions cold,
hiding in the dark corners of your mind?
Can you still love,
or have you forgotten how?
Do you still fight,
or did you let go of the light?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lots of questions here, well written keep writing. Bob