Onder lantaarns,waar het licht
hun schaduwen lang en zacht maakt,
lopen vrouwen in de nacht,
hun stilte vol verhalen.
Hun hakken tikken op het natte steen,
als klokslagen van een verborgen tijd.
Ze dragen dromen in hun ogen,
maar niemand leest wat daar geschreven staat.
......
000
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Beneath the lanterns, where the light
stretches their shadows soft and thin,
walk women through the quiet night,
their silence heavy with untold tales.
Their heels strike whispers on the wet stone,
like secret clockbeats of another time.
They carry dreams behind their eyes,
but no one reads the words inside.
......
my Son saved my life,
but I’m not sure it was worth saving.
I endured what others say is Unimaginable…
what would kill men
stronger and faster and smarter…
I survived alone
He came, that Light within me, and I escaped… Saving his life was saving my own
......
Secrets are secret
Truth cannot expound
Everything is vanity
No comfort to be found
Truth is relative
or so it is, they say
Life for us is short
no time to dry the hay
......
Beneath the lanterns, where the light
stretches their shadows soft and thin,
walk women through the quiet night,
their silence heavy with untold tales.
Their heels strike whispers on the wet stone,
like secret clockbeats of another time.
They carry dreams behind their eyes,
but no one reads the words inside.
......
Onder lantaarns,waar het licht
hun schaduwen lang en zacht maakt,
lopen vrouwen in de nacht,
hun stilte vol verhalen.
Hun hakken tikken op het natte steen,
als klokslagen van een verborgen tijd.
Ze dragen dromen in hun ogen,
maar niemand leest wat daar geschreven staat.
......
Do you feel what I feel .
It may be close
similar
but impossible
to look into the
dead poets of
centuries' passing
time included was
claimed
an alphabet
......
000
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No one can actually hear the whispers
that echo through the room.
They would understand only if they listened to the reverie you share with the moon.
-Aditi Hayaran (Larkspur)