The city doesn’t look the same
The colors are dull
The Birds are at a lull
The tress shed their clothing
In the chill of the summer breeze
My memories of you taunt me
At every twist they haunt me
The city doesn’t look the same
Am I to be free from this loathing?
My actions have brought me shame
Things will never be the same
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem