Spells of darkness abound.
Clouds form on every horizon, blocking out the sun.
Running to catch glimpses of good times that were
had, only to reach them as they fade.
Mirages of life can be hard, sometimes cruel, as
being left behind, the hurt folds in ever tighter
ripples, throughout the soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem