my heart cries but tears do not come in my eyes,
the lost faces took not only my smiles,
they took my tears, too,
When my heart is suffocated,
I put that old album at the shelf,
and I pick new album of colorful photographs,
and when tears come back in my eyes,
I smile,
I can still enjoy the seasons,
and flowers have blossomed,
so springs have come,
I am looking for what I have lost for ever!
My tears and my smiles go back once again!
But my heart is the same juvenile,
and my pen can still write,
the smiles come back once again,
but followed by tears!
I know I have lost a face
that I don’t see,
in neither of the two albums!
The album often white like my frozen tears,
but sometimes melts
in hot and red fluid somewhere inside my bosom,
with a naughty picture,
that only my pen can reflect on a white paper,
but how can those lost eyes be reflected,
love is miraculous but lost eyes of carefree youth,
are above the reach of all the miracles.
Alas! I have lost that naughty youth!
But his refracted glimpses are often seen in my writes.
Though lost for ever yet preserved in a third album.
(I rewrote my poem Two Albums because
I realized that I could not describe correctly
that I am looking for my lost youth)

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