A silent procession walking through a garden
Speaks the dreams, ambitions
And things that can't be undone
Infestation of daydreams
That fade with rolling in night
There are finally footsteps
To be heard softly upon the stone stair
we walked through the winters
Fallen leaves and scattered dead grasses
Unable to numb our feelings
Was it a fearless agony?
Or we crossed a line
On a journey measuring the hours
Of untold history
Even we don't understand the mysteries of life
Straying in the fissures of oblivion
We walk hand in hand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
No, we may not understand the mysteries of life, but we do understand where we could have done something differently, if we had exercised our choice!