A pain in the heart that be not heart attack
In the sub-conscious floated
In Beauty and rich imagery
It gloated.
There was a silence of a sleeping city
After the hubbub of night
The sleepers took to bed and
Dawn they shout out.
They went to sleep again
Those sleepy marauders
But then it was a day of rest
But more it was a day of holiness
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem