The crows stain the blue sky,
The only birds that are heard every season,
Like the world that always talks and screeches
Even when it better hush…
I don’t listen to them or the world
Or the evil mouths that don’t know joy,
The trees wear our longingness
And the branches whisper our words…
I miss you, your voice, your silence
The breeze of your lips blowing through my hair,
A small voice brings joy to my heart, suddenly,
A nightingale is singing, hidden on leaves…
(March 2023)
English
Afrikaans
Arabic
Bengali
Bulgarian
Chinese (Simplified)
Dutch
Filipino
Finnish
French
German
Greek
Hausa
Hindi
Hungarian
Igbo
Italian
Japanese
Korean
Malay
Malayalam
Polish
Portuguese
Punjabi
Romanian
Russian
Serbian
Slovak
Spanish
Swahili
Ukrainian
Urdu
Yoruba