how many ways poets lament
the knowledge of death
the death of love
we face the gray winter sky
the sun occluded
the dark angels
fruit fallen from the trees
yellow leaves
muted landscape
the greatest lamentation is
that we live and die
like the yellow leaves
knowing also the world lives on
with careless disregard
for who we were
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A sad poem indeed, yet, we do live on in someone's memory or at least in the good we do as we occupy this short space. Best of all we live on in the memory of a God who is faithful for He has promised. Read mine - If There Be No God - Adeline
I'll read it. Thanks for the comment.