Silence grew quiet
under the charms
of a book keeper.
Death, is this sounding.
My thoughts are too
loud, thou this whist
sounds dumbing.
My thoughts are too
proud, thou this kist
of silence keeps this planet
spining, my head is
a planet planted by
the sea breeze of this
noiselessness.
The existance of love is
Ignis fatuus!
spining, my head is a planet planted by the sea breeze of this noiselessness. a very nice poem with special kind of thoughts. thank you. tony
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
My thoughts are too proud, thou this kist of silence keeps this planet spining, my head is a planet planted by the sea breeze of this noiselessness. please keep writing enjoying your poems emotion moving thanks for sharing