At the end of the day
I rummaged all the corners
Everything is so distinct and clear
Yet I end up as a loser.
The music of festivity and celebration
Shall roar about in a time
our boleros are not yet over
When a rainbow arcs over the mountain.
It's time to sniff, to pick up
Hours left us dry and parched
Moments became heavier than wild hogs
And our wounds too, needs a soft rub.
So when I found my possession
Been lost years ago
May not've that kind of strength
Taut it like a bow.
At the end of the day
I rummaged all the corners
Everything is so distinct and clear
Yet I end up as a loser.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very nice thought. Thanks for sharing.