I take a sip, maybe two
My mind's eye blurs with the thought of you
Another few I am quick to swallow
I beg the bottle to blot out my sorrow
Four becomes six, six suddenly ten
I'm crying beside you on that bench again
One bottle down, still I need more
To leave the island of your dwelling and let you go
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem