Angels beckoned by the sounds of silent bells,
as if it fills the air with the irony of harmony,
and a symphony that crescendos towards heaven's hills.
There is a sweet silence filled with Nature's sounds;
But suddenly, a noise interrupts nature's nonchalant rhythms,
and constant chatter fills the serene spaces.
A disease corrupts, like a virus it kills nature;
it kills silence.
copyright by Mark Anthony St. rose. All rights reserved.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem