It is not new
Nor say if to be classic.
There is a core within
Lying upon, unhealed
As I began to narrate
The unsung Fables of My Yore.
Trees swayed along the winds,
Drops of rain fell on earth,
Quenching its thirst
Desires had its own fence
Greed blind folded sniffing
Its victim from far
Sky used to open wide
As we spread our arms.
But they say “Nothing Lasts Forever”
So did my freedom
The roof on my head
Nor the morsel of food in my mouth
Struggle was the new name
Given to My Life
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem