In the midst of a shadowed night, I tinge myself in sheer moonlight. Frost sheaths the window’s glass whilst fleeting storm clouds pass and I see succinct visions of you; I weep, because they are not true. My red heart still aches with pain and the tears on pillow shall stain; leaving a mark of the times I cried since that very day when you died. I still recall every line of your face that my memory shall never efface. I feel those drafty autumn breezes upon my skin as my heart freezes; as it’s reminiscence of your touch and your love that I miss so much. Even when I allure myself to sleep it’s visions of you that I shall keep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem