you can smell poverty,
without ever asking.
you can taste hunger,
you can feel unspoken sorrow.
open your eyes,
you can see the season.
and in a lover's eyes,
the door, and the bolt.
feel the ashes,
too cold to stir.
take a deep breath,
move your mechanical feet.
time doesnt lie,
and doesnt know truth.
'ashes to ashes...'
you know the rest!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem