Yesterday I was running my hands over my hair
Today hairs were running over me
Now my hair is thinning ahead of me
Can it ever be?
I wish I could hold back those black hairs.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
yesterday's hair was black now that is white the hand could run on that now - a piece of running memory of hand! ///
Mahtab, thanks for comment.