In giving,
we gave bravely
reaching out
to touch the world.
We moved,
against, each other:
holding back intrusions
so easily, we loved.
The Autumn,
still plays,
on our minds:
dusty, ash, colours
peering, into life.
As time faded,
so did our play:
standing up to receive
our applause,
dying, by an eclipse,
of nevermore.
Our ending,
flew into the endless sky:
where all things go,
to vanish.
But the sound,
of crushing leaves:
laying beneath our feet;
kept the hours full,
with thoughts of the fall.
So in tune,
but never to love again:
a melody plays,
with the whispers left:
in gentle tones,
the heart, shall not, forget.
So easily,
no shelter arrives:
and all that came before,
falls to the ground,
forevermore.
How easily,
we stood for the encore:
of days, now existing,
trying to forget.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem