Your Final Abode

 

 

 

The thick walls of the grandiose edifice of sadness cannot prevent your ghost from reaching out to my heart.

 

 

 

High walls cannot restrict or affect our meetings day or night.

 

 

 

Towering walls have nothing to do with the heart that can hear the quiet whisper of your love.

 

 

 

The silent whisper of love that often takes the form of a silent longing in the depth of the night.

 

 

 

The silent longing that is still surreptitiously crawling into the depths of my heart.

 

 

 

The silent longing that is still calling upon me to rush toward our old deserted roads.

 

 

 

The hidden longing that still invites me to resume our old dreams.

 

 

 

To resume our dreams, when we could roam those streets, hand in hand again.

 

 

 

Wandering the old streets which were the scene of our great night show.

 

 

 

The night show that used to be the theatrical show of our unfolded dreams.

 

 

 

Our unfolded dreams that reshaped all our surrounding reality in an unprecedented delightful way,

 

 

 

and painted the existence in the pink color of our newborn dream.

 

 

 

It brought to our hearts a storm of unspeakable happiness when we saw the radiant love in each other's eyes.

 

 

 

But now there is only the darkness of the thick walls of the grandiose edifice of grief,

 

 

 

which still cannot prevent your ghost from reaching out to my heart.

 

 

 

Because the eternal abode of your ghost is in the depths of my heart.