Among the 'standings'
Is a badly ordained.
The plume of...
The life's rampage,
...a set back on visibility.
Who is to siddle,
Through murky desert...
And loathe death desire?
Verily...our bones,
And the little flesh,
Is ordained one day...
As the preys to...
Bad pole of our fate.
We can't plan to,
Elude the deluge...
Since the heaven,
Pause not its weep.
Though the ordained,
Bad pole of fate...
Is just a quibble,
Of chance to succeed.
But the bad pole,
Of our ordained...
Is of equal certainty,
To our memirent.
9: 21 P.M
22ND JUNE 14.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem