when all
the ipil-ipil leaves
fall to the ground
because the
bark has
given to the
fangs of
fungus
somehow
the leaves help me
remember:
for instance
those wasted days
of December
opportunities
flying away
because i never
grab them
words that
were uttered
which i never really
mean
but hurting just the
same
so many lovely days
but filled with
lust
great thoughts
squandered like
the anger
for money
so many things
so many fallen souls
rotten selves
unredeemed....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem