All those marks
Left behind
By dead squashed wings/bodies perhaps
All those sores
To remind or not
Someone somewhere of Newton's third
No matter how sweet
The young mellow vine
Tomorrow's pain remains untapped
So strong the want
Of else and more
Inglorious, glorious, ordinary
Beyond our fear
Whisper courageous thoughts
Chew the evidence and swallow
Slink away
Into his mist filled night
Streetlight her unreliable witness
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice poem with pain and sorrow of life.