a cast away
thrown from the ship of sorrow
swam out into the black sea
searching and yearning for land
a place to rest
a place to call home
inside his head was best
the king of a forgotten throne
he swam until fire seared his lungs
and the bed of the sea looked so inviting
he let the waves tuck him in
there is no sense in fighting
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
he swam until fire seared his lungs and the bed of the sea looked so inviting he let the waves tuck him in there is no sense in fighting...so powerful thoughts sweeping away the mind and its futility in fighting the war...it is so beautiful in its presentation....10 raad mine...i raised my fist...