When I was in throne
He was my morning alarm
My calling bell
Company of my morning walk
And a friend to share
The morning cup of tea.
He was a well-wisher
A caretaker
An advisor
And shadow of mine.
My guard
My Savoir
And my nose, eye and ear.
That throne no more embraces me now
As I know one day it ought to go.
My friend then has become
A rare commodity
Even a telephone call from him
Is a dream for me now?
I have ample time at hand to think
Whether he was a friend or a foe.
Who befooled me so long?
In the guise
I could not know.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem