Wax melts, pooling at the base,
a quiet surrender to time.
The flame flickers, reaching,
then shrinking into itself.
Shadows stretch along the walls,
moving without a sound.
Light fades, not in anger,
but in slow acceptance.
What was bright is now dim,
what was steady begins to waver.
Not gone in an instant,
but disappearing all the same.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem