the tree that i love
is gone
someone cut it
i did not mind at all
my fault then
what i have now are
the stories of the tree
i see shadows of its leaves
and they dance
with the wind till night time
to appease my longing
i see that tree in
everything be it grass
or stone or
river or
even those walls and
stairs
i am sick my friend says
but i am gone
someone took my real self away
and i did not mind
at all
and then i live every moment of
my life
in my shadows in my hands that
dance with the wind
till the end of my
own time
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem