These falling ashes are all that remains
Of myriad glorious, golden days.
Do you recall gathering in the Light
To keep us warm in long, cold, starless nights?
But those ripe times have been swept away by
A new regime that pollutes pure blue skies.
These falling ashes contain endless sorrows.
Now it's getting dark; no bright tomorrows.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem