Your feet brush the ground,
It's as if you don't belong here,
You don't make a sound,
It's as if you have silent tears,
You open the leather bound book,
Time ticks away as you seem to fade,
No one even spares a look,
The pages seem as if they were a serenade,
Whispers flow through darkness,
As midnight has passed,
But you continue to read regardless,
You sit there as even time has been surpassed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem