Lifetime of annuities, beckoning beyond a stillness
borne of fragile tenderness in sorrow's hallways.
Likely aspects gather in circles, revolving around
fragments of jovial recreance, no ideas formulating
or echoing anything literate.
Calmly reminiscing about later day events as life
fritters itself away on non-important thoughts heaped
in piles of acquiescence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem