Fog cool and quiet
Occasionally a car rolls by
Breaking the silence
Feeling empty after a late night talk
That has spelled out the fated
Ruins of a time that now carries
No memory of delight
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This built a picture of a castle relic on a hill, beautiful yet the silhouette causes much pain in the early morning mist...my favourite write in a while... tyvm karen