sometimes the sky turns grey because of the words i've misplaced
sometimes eagles dive to their death because of the books gone unread
and some things are unopened and untouched
yet they were meant for so much
like an unread book, i hope i do not crack
these unread books live in misery as they lie
unspoken, shut up in time, for some of them die
for, twenty or ten hundred years does not bring them back
so there they lie, these unread books
unspoken words, or spoken and lost
they are unopened and untouched
yet they were meant for so much
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem