Ancient friends appreciate
My ghost-like face
That has weathered loneliness
And the melody of the rain.
Spirits offer me the wine of dreams
When I fall asleep at dusk
With a tattered heart
I can no longer trust.
When I awake,
I hear the cry of the wind
Breathing upon weary chimes,
I know, I must abandon everything
And no longer consider
Anything as mine.
The first stanza grabs the reader. The rest carries beyond. This is such a fine capture of a mood. Eloquent, and quite beautiful. Write on, Uriah. Your voice speaks volumes. I would compare this poem to Zen verse. Emptiness is, perhaps, the point of departure. This poem is profoundly wise, and sad. I think wisdom must always include sadness. - Will
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Poets belong to the wind, the rain and the dusk. Your melody is playing time out of mind. Warmest regards, Sandra