Forgetting the excitement of yesterday, just looking at it
in pictures pasted in albums through the years.
Lasting impressions open to insight over many that have
been seen, reliving echoes of every moment, keeping them
close forever.
Voices of past relatives, not speaking out loud, just being
heard quietly in my mind.
It's just not the same, life is no longer able to tell what
their voices sounded like so long ago.
Tears slipping, unstoppable, filling palms of hands, over-
flowing into a heart's mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem