Shaft of rain.
Split instant wept.
Crash of tears.
Lies alone,
Unswept.
Echo of stain.
Torn now bereft.
Match of spears.
Secret, sly,
Unkept.
Alone again.
Veer high and left.
Endless years.
Knife’s true line
Is deft.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem