The feelings linger a while,
like honey on the tongue,
of the one who consumes it,
even as the memory wanes,
into nothingness,
but time is cruel and merciless,
moments fly,
and leave behind scars,
the rings on the trees,
and the lines on the faces,
constant and growing reminders,
of what used to be,
but no longer is,
and the echoes once strong,
fade slowly but surely,
dying a little,
with each reflection,
until only silence remains.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such a deep and meaningful poem! Like this so much.