Your bold voice, my ears still hear,
Though stillness had no permission that time,
One day you would have remorse.
The wind of your falling hair, my heart still feels.
I used to die for it.
The taste of your lips, my lips still miss,
The best wine I have ever drunk.
The grin curved on your face, I still imagine.
You used to contribute to me.
The way you would push me, I still laugh at.
You might remember.
The manner you would hit me, I still smile at.
You must be recalling,
The chapter of your love, I still have disclosed,
And you know,
I read you every day.
The lines of your letters, I still come across.
You might have flamed.
The time I would wait for you, I still seek.
Who cares? You utter.
No matter if you cared for it or not.
I am, Under the skies of your love, still breathing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem