Once in my silence
lived all my liiveliness
and all my noise
and all my music.
I am now silent
because I have no poetry in me.
I am a dry pond
none can swim in;
I am a dry leaf
fallen from a tall tree;
I am a dry flower
hidden in alleys of memories;
I am a plucked feather,
its colours have no life.
I am a dry wind, hot and rough.
Still I am not silent.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The symbolic use of Similes to convey a train of thought is poetically remarkable. A nice piece you've got here. Thanks for sharing and do keep it up. Please read my poem MANDELA - THE IMMORTAL ICON.