Once, they burned like fire-
bright, relentless, consuming.
Every glance, every word,
a spark in the quiet night.
Now, they linger like shadows,
soft echoes of what was,
whispers of warmth in the cold,
familiar but distant.
Time did not break them,
nor did anger or regret.
The simply dissolved,
like mist in the morning sun.
Not lost, not gone-
just faded.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem