time is wonderful
lost and lost forever
all that’s left is a trail of memories
our brain is just a storage facility for the imaginary
what has occurred does not exist but for what we remember
i draw the importance of my life
from the memories i have
warm places in my mind
that i do not mind keeping close to me
remnants of the material memories that had slipped between my fingers
and into my heart
where they became intangible
just imagination
because the past has wiped itself clean.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem