As I lay eyes upon this lost cause
Stripped of its disguise, stripped of its dignity
Slowly sustaining a feeling, that I can’t feel
Paralyzed in a single destination
A stranger to the land on the other side
A lonely figure, a wise genuine soul
One with a biography, which will never be cherished
Nor ever looked upon as a success
Encountering spring, summer, autumn, winter, and what they bring
Here stands the definition of time
Endless time, until one removes a minute off its clock
Once a tiny seed, who knew it would grow only to bleed
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your writing gives me hope and inspiration.