The clock’s illuminated eye
Portrays in numerated scheme,
As notes, in song, pass on once heard,
A pulse inclined so not to dwell
Upon the number just occurred.
Where is the time that now has passed
That draws each heartbeat from my chest,
Each breath as flame deserts the fire,
Yet still insists to leave behind
Intruding thoughts against desire?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem