We were pretty flowers in the summer,
We glowed bright in the sun's glimmer.
We were young lovers, a sonorous tale,
Love was a tree, withstood the gale.
But at the toss of fate's unfair die,
The nightingales sing no more,
In your cries, I hear them bark.
The dieing sun has yet pulled
Our shadows very far apart.
And now our hearts stand
Like inverted pyramids.
Dreading the balance,
Craving the fall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Outstanding poem. Wonderfully conceived. Great imagery with nice sentiments. Keep it up. I rated it 10. Thanks for sharing..... Kindly read and rate my poem 'A humble complaint' on page 2. Akmal