speak not of your life
beyond these doors
i shan't speak of mine
for here,
in this white-walled room
of secrets unspoken
we shall weave memories
and frame them
in nameless frames
then look upon them
in future moments of
emptiness, and smile
knowing that far away
across seas and chasms of time
we remember one another
in rooms with white walls
This poem leaves me with a feeling of utter loneliness... the momentary white-walled joy is not enough to sustained happiness.... ouch ouch ouch... beautifully written.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Some times I sit and wonder. What if we all start to speak will the world be shocked? That is what makes it so special we can chose what we tell and what we keep for our self's.