A broken lamp,
Torn pages shaded of twilight,
footnotes of my name.
My fingers run across,
yearning lines, over wrinkled folds
like once they ran over your heart.
All these torn pages of promises we made,
faded prints of our memories,
My tears shall smudge them forever;
This evening shall be the last.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem