Our yesterday’s loves are our today’s memories
of things that were never meant to be.
The dreams that flickered
and faded like a dying candle light.
Our yesterday’s loves are all gone now
leaving no trace they had ever been
except within the flickering pages
of our memory.
We have climbed many mountains
and they became lost from view.
Our young hearts were fickle then
in those far of days of our youth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Really like your imagery on this one David. Dreams flickered and faded like candle light and flickering used once again as flickering pages. Also though not flicker, fickle takes its place in the last stanza and works so well although a different word. Gosh! I am getting tongue tied here... Great work! Karin Anderson