I smoke my last guitar
swirling notes of sweet Havana fly
Blowing blue wisps to a distant star
Waning flat tones of cognac cry
Wafting frets while fingers do char
as the aroma of music drifts in a sigh
Dumping song's ashes in a jar
Glowing Cuban embers, evaporate and die
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem