I shouldn't believe you God,
sugars have turned rancid,
lemons have curdled
water's turned acid.
Burning oil pouring on land,
stones have sweat,
no greens on tree hand,
flowers have ashes of heat.
Sun's glory is trembling,
breeze is still like rock,
chirps feel like bee sting,
black shadows stalk.
But I still believe you, O, ever placid,
for not all sugars will turn rancid.
Hmmm.... nice to see the initial despair giving way to hope in the end.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem is the first one to go to myfavourites............it is a sad poem with an optimistic end.........IMPRESSIVE