Idle days bring fantasy
of love that used to be,
a vision of a bygone hope
that nevermore can be.
Yet we travel back in time
to find an open door
to memory we can't forget
and losses that we store.
In that place, a lover's sigh
rises from the dust,
enduring tears of yesterday,
and every broken trust.
We pray oblivion will end
the anguish that we feel,
for memory is agony
that only death can heal.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem