Silence fills the air around, lying upon the ears of time,
nowhere else can it be heard, except here in these hallowed
halls of ages since gone by.
Mustiness can still be smelled in the air you breathe, it's
heavy odor filling your nostrils with the dust of long ago.
Everywhere you walk, footsteps echo down the hall of time
gone by, leaving only the whispering, hovering on the breeze, waiting it's turn to be heard again in the near future.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
well penned measured pace lovely