Go grey grow grey
lay dead where the dead lay
dead led away to decay
beware of the vultures
pursuing your trail
dark day marked grey
enjoy the rust of autumn hay
say say what comes, say
give dying words their own way
Play play get ready to pay
the price of your lost game
Mind you play what you say
the game of life where you pay
where the only end lies beyond your bay
where, whether you save or slay,
at the end, you'd be the one to stay,
in the house of sin you say
with no window, no gate...
29-7-2009
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
hai usman, too good to read this poem. simply superb. say, way, hay, pay, ..... beautiful poem forming. i like your poem