The Mixed SoupThe mind was once a clear, familiar track, But now the words slip off and won't come back.A conversation starts, then fades away, Lost in the shifting fog of everyday.This is no single storm, no solo grief, But a slow theft that robs the mind of peace.A mixed soup of the things I used to know, Where simple tasks and thoughts begin to slow.The recent past dissolves like morning mist, Leaving a blank where memories exist.The plans and judgments falter and decline, As shadows blur the borders of time.With every fading word, a shadow grows, Anxiety and sadness come and go.The youth look on, while elders bear the weightOf changes altering our internal state.Yet in the quiet spaces left behind, A person searches for the thread to bind, To hold the pieces of a fading art, And keep the steady beating of the heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem