Are you sitting on my grave?
finding noting or playing tricks again?
or discovering my desperate youth!
aah,
what times,
the month of january,
summers of
lonely hearts,
but dear diary,
nothing is here now......
no girl playing piano,
and lovely notes...............
no girl discovering colors,
no fame
so what's your aim my dreary? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
why,
what then!
on my graveyard?
love gone in the childish times of my past fancies.........................
dear mistress,
aah
we are both slaves,
in our love of lost hope........
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem