Chopin playing harmonies of my broken heart, strumming it mercilessly with beautiful tones from heaven's realms.
Taking me through sorrowful lanes of yesterday, without warning.
Silently touching my soul with strings of violins, playing grief in deepest e-minor chords.
Taking me to interior loneliness where I can never return from, leaving me in a profound image of forlorn acquiescence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem