Yearning Poem by Etienne Charilaou
Yearning
With a little port to pickle my brain,
and loving the fall of soft rain;
with no time whatsoever to do
all the things I long to do.
I offer this ugly poem to you.
Accolades artists accumulate,
while they their audiences thrill.
Something other than shrill you'll hear
here, for a still, small voice
after the quake and after the fire,
is needed to soothe a sigher.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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7/29/2025 5:18:37 PM # 1.0.0
after the quake and after the fire, is needed to soothe a sigher...so very true words. Such events leave people with sigh and no other options.