Pain of the Soul (Poetic Translation)

Pain of the Soul (Poetic Translation)

I looked into my mirror,And through the dark, I saw my soul.For it, love had turned to poison,And the wish to love became its wound.Its nights grew pale,Brighter than its weary days.

In its eyes, I saw the yearningTo weep away its sorrow—The final drops of happinessThat clung to fading hope.Through grief, it withered,For having bartered its own heart.

I saw in its gaze the fear of losingThose fleeting moments by your side.A life that once knew beauty through your presenceNow feels the ache of losing you—And the deeper acheOf never truly having had you.

In seeking you, it became a wanderer,In healing you, it became the wounded.Silence fell—your laughter gone.

To love you was its death,To forget you would be its erasure.

You were its single definition of love,Its only lesson in hate.It was you who shaped it—By your presence, by your absence.

And when time ceases for its being,Remember—It lived only through the echo of your existence.

— KP

Stevens P.