Knowing silhouettes are gathering in the background, mingling with past images, taking cover when memories rear their heads.
Trying not to focus on a realm of sadness, preferring to accumulate some joy and happiness for the time being.
Stilted conversation, never knowing what to say, yet, in writing, never at a loss for words, expressions and diction.
Longings filling every paragraph and somehow spreading truth throughout the poetical world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem