A hesitant finger touches a key.
For long years, have the hands seemed
Silent for eternity.
Two streams of thoughts run past.
Which was that profound next key?
Until you begin to hear
the ghost of a faint melody.
Then it comes rushing back,
Like a wisp of wind.
Like a roaring Himalayan stream.
And at that moment
the flame burns the brightest,
Thousands of memories rush back.
As the twain unite.
This flame never burns out
It is only the lantern that gathers dust
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Bravo! WELCOME to the Poetry World! What a way to show the World that you are present and with your magic pen and brilliant mind, you shows your genuine feelings and poetic potential! 10+++ Thank you for sharing and I look forward to read more of your well crafted works! Keep it up! God Bless You! Love and Peace for always! Romeo from New York City!