Chinar leaves and poetry (Marcella Boccia) 🎧 English

Chinar leaves and poetry (Marcella Boccia)The chinar leaves fall,Crimson tears on the earth,Each one a poem written in the silence of the sky,Each one a breath caught in the throat of time.They flutter like whispers,Carrying the stories of a thousand lost years,And I gather them,Not for their beauty,But for the ache they carry in their veins.The wind sings its song through the branches,A hymn of despair and longing,And I hear it—Not as a melody,But as the language of the earth,The voice of the dead,Echoing through the spaces where love once bloomed.These leaves,They are not just leaves.They are words that do not need to be spoken,Fingers of flame that touch the soul,The memories of a war forgotten by men,But never by the land.They tell of lovers who never met,Of names erased by time,Of dreams that died before they could take root.In this place,Where the chinar trees bleed into the earth,I write poetry,Not with ink,But with the blood of these fallen leaves.Each word a scar,Each line a wound,Each verse a prayer for those who have gone,And for those who will never return.In the shadows of these trees,Where darkness wraps itself around the light,I am both lost and found,Both the writer and the written,Both the leaf that falls and the earth that weeps.