Every stroke of the violin
in this romantic love song
is a silver twisted Dagger.
The pain is far too strong,
and the sound of the biting wind
rumors the sorrow of my laughter
Like this piece of grey art work
A sketch of my life in a single photo
Every mark, a thing I've not yet done
I see, this, when ever I look,
A field, a cup of tea, an empty book
A poem written but not yet sung
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This was a very good poem. You could see it form many stand points. keep up the good work!