Such sadness now that memories
are all I have to view, of days when hands
and rains felt warm upon their touch,
Our steaming hearts in shelter there beneath.
When nights would fail to dampen down
such raging fires at our command,
as frantic hands searched out in dreams
to sense the other, through each night.
Now places, moments, heady music
and the musk of you, they say,
'Must be consigned to history! '
When just yesterday we loved so much.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem