Windows being opened and closed upon horizons of tomorrow,
never allowing entrance of anything other than sorrow to
penetrate window panes of solid grief.
Painfully and tired, hoping beyond hope to find completion
in mirrors of tomorrow's reflections.
Developing and inspiring any manner of a universal interior
life, changing and looking back at what used to be and now
is no longer becoming.
Romance and love have danced their last dance on this earth,
no way to find your way into it's depths unless you die
also.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem