Pieces of forgotten lifes
Wonder and float
In the mirror…
A slow crying voice
Sings a poem,
That simply doesn’t rhyme.
There is a gun somewhere
Without any bullet
With just a flower and goodwill,
Ready to shoot
Not to kill.
There is a rainbow I’m sure
For every sunset I see…
There is a child yelling out “Hope”
With just a smile and a toy…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Chimerical view of a land i'd love to embrace...Unfortunately, in our real world, the blood-shed continues to flow like a hemophillic river...Solid imagwork...Powerful storyline..Well done, Nuno. ~ F.j.R. ~