He was
Paint on my drying palette
Every color and tinge
Sweat on my drying brow
The sorrow between my knees
The deep blue of the ocean
Once out in open seas
The tingle in my flesh
Only one man held the keys
The rust of the evening sun
Now just a memory
The sighs I once uttered
How I miss them terribly
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem