Fields of emptiness full of tears
Monsters under your bed and rivers of fears.
I listen to my own melody
While I sleep in my own tragedy.
Broken sword of hope is alone
And I give roses to no one.
Filthy words always stay within of my mind
There is no sweet lake to find
Where is the poetry of my life?
It is lost among my shadow, my weakness and a knife.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem