wet, curved hills,
sleet behind my eyes,
watery moss
in unreal green,
all this sucks like love
at my heavy steps;
then the stolen voices
of playing children,
kites that text the sky;
all this part of a story,
a day empty as a fool
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yeah the days gone can't come back. Only memory lasts forever. Very nice poem. Thanks for sharing.