Evening's sadness.
We realize
Everything has a price.
Even seeing.
Late hours.
We look no longer for the ship.
We know we are
The last port,
The last island.
Aged years.
The only answers we listen to
Are the answers of life:
The years that know
The name of our sigh.
---
From Aged Mirrors - trilogyofthemirrors.com
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good poem. Top score