All these trinkets,
toys,
trifles, souvenirs,
small mementoes or great moments, small presents from great friends,
one day
they'll lose their magic attraction, their small warm souls,
to turn into cold bits and pieces. Maybe the elm which has begun to die
now similarly feels that it bears
a lot of withered branches.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautifullly conceived meaningful and thought provoking write. Thanks for sharing it here.