The old piano sits silent
It's keys are chipped and worn
Turned bronze by the sun's warm rays
Memories of sweet melodies
Haunt the old church
Remembering a better time
The music hangs suspended in time
Faded and ancient in the light
Rivers of notes frozen between lines
The wood has long since surrendered
Beaten by age and termites
Left stranded in a dark balcony.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Just lovely word picture you have painted. I can see the dust motes in the air!