We told stories,
with salty eyes
of frail folk sleeping awake
in times illusion
We cried with reminiscence
in our pool of premonitions,
and watched as silver hair
grew from our souls, so meek and fair
Surrounded by the night we sat,
frozen in golden memories
seen only by life's watchmen;
great herders of emotion
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem