I slouch by the once vivid, now dying fire
watching the scarce embers glow,
remembering all of your sonnets to me
spoken in sweet voices, slow.
The fading warmth makes me feel wistful
as I know it's exactly like you
you've sparked my soul into innumerable blazes
which, now, are diminished to few.
My heart is an ember of what you once lit
and the faint glow still glimmers, so meek.
Hope of a future better than now
is what keeps me from becoming weak.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
some beautiful imagery here, keep writing :)