When a woman has fell, she picks herself up
Only to stand in a line
of like candles
Golden and warm, lovely and little candles
Days that are past
are now proclaimed ancient
As the candles stand in their Rows (woman)
tears can only run-down their cheeks
slowely dripping to the floor
Candles (woman) of saddness & deppression
had lost their light, but not entirely,
candles cold, candles melted
candles hurt
everytime i will look out at them hurt
will i be
that with the shapes their carry
emotionally paralysed in someway
Even more hurt, to remember
that at first, all had
suffient lighting
but i took hope in this... that somehow i don`t know
how, it does not make perfect sence
but their kept their candles burning....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem