The woods are dark and calm
Some demons are quietly playing
When some years ago
A child was drawn to his game
His spoon was late after six p.m.
He smelt like the ground
Leaves on his back
There was a birth of remorse
History is a ghost
Of many dreadful accounts
Yesterday is unalterable
We gain and we lose
(written on June 9,2011 Singapore)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem