the tiniest wings fall off your shoulders
they can't get you off the ground
another day, month, year older
and you haven't come around
wipe the dust off of your halo
wash that black dye out of your gown
i'm still flying solo
looking up for when you come down
the tiniest wings fall off your shoulders
watch them fly from the ground
i'm now a few years older
still you haven't come around
but on your head there's a halo
around you a black gown
once again i'm flying solo
still watching, just waiting to come down
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An insightful piece of poetry, well conceived and nicely brought forth with conviction.