Blossoms falling down, reminders of a life now past.
Blown about by gentle breezes, never knowing where
they will end up.
Tossed into corners like so many old memories,
chances of survival not good at all.
Placating pleasures shrouding distant horizons,
all the while hiding here inside the coffers of
past life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem