Death to my lover

May is the coldest month,

when flowers grow,

yet memories dye.

Here are the roots,

the story of love

that dies with the heart.

Winter comes, the growth of the beginning

Summer comes with nothing but pracheam.

And the rain comes to drench the achovet.

The Sunlight comes and burns the gan.

The last hour left with silence.

Yesh li hammon achovet bisivel lakh.

He came to the mountain of hope and despair.

I was scared of the mysterious air,

but he let me go…

for the first time I knew how to feel free

in the mysterious air.

What comes in this story is nothing but—

You don't know this,

then you should go away from here,

to fine the answer of the truth.

Yesh li shaila bishieval ha achovet, aht ya dat mackarach bi shevel li?

"You know the answer

lies within this garden."

I looked within the flowers,

knowing the truth and the lie.

The silence brings around


not even a simple answer.

author note: wrote for creative writing class after reading "The Wasteland" and please do excuse my grammatical mistakes in the language... :) please comment!