Parking on September 1921
Waiting from his love
That it won't be able to come back
Losing his hopes
As if god has killed him hundred times before
And without any tears
His soul still erasing his wounds
She's gone, and I'm done
What is wrong?
He still alive
As a punishment from his loss
He never had this feeling in the past
His secret sin
As a treasure he'll keep
Who murdered her?
It was him, wasn't his fellow
This must have been his darkness
And his nightmare
But she knew.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem