Glitters of snows lingers in eyes,
like a taste of a promised bliss,
while hangover of conscious,
in the chill of night,
lost in mists of dismay,
and shiver of hands,
catching the tremors,
when spark of fire dreamed in mind,
and face of winds,
refused by mirror,
While rose petals,
dropping like tears,
and numbed bare feet,
weary and lost,
the journey,
begins with heart of defeat,
there is some room,
upon the top of the hill,
as i lock the door,
waiting for the next day.
profound composition.....shared in a stunning knotty genre....loved it! ! !
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I would like to translate this poem
the journey, begins with heart of defeat, there is some room, upon the top of the hill, as i lock the door, waiting for the next day.yes there lies hope forbrightto morrow and thatkeepsus alive inthis world...beutifullydepicted inverses.....10