In a winter morning,
I wake up with pain,
Thinking of the past,
and lost love in vain.
My chest is torn apart,
my heart beats fast,
With a false sense of trust.
As memories haunt me,
like autumn's rain,
I moved on, like a fast-running train.
I cry bitterly, thinking about what I've lost,
but I'll never want to get it back, at any cost.
I writhe in the pain of separation,
my limbs burning to ashes,
and what was false flashes before my eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem