I remember this path,
I took it once before,
That famaliar crookedness,
Unchanged from long ago.
I was happy,
And then...
Alone.
The way the color,
Abruptly changes to grey,
Is the first part of the charade,
The separation of soul from spirit,
End of the lovers parade,
Its a question of when,
I will be numb again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem