I used to only write about love,
perfume and bracelets
on thin wrists,
about seeing a woman's eyes
no matter the distance between us;
but now, the only moonlight I find
caresses broken concrete
in a cold city or the cemetery stones
of those I wish I could see.
The dead don't return,
nothing returns,
Sidra, I don't think I'll return.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Poignancy but in great poetic style and creative expressions. I like poems such as these that are out of the ordinary. Way to go and it does have an effect on readers. I hope u do read mine latest too.