His heart pounded against him
Standing still; he felt sweat in his hands
As he walk through the huge crowd
His hands shook
His legs were not firm on ground
In the mind evr'ything was clear and final
And gave a symptom like a vision
Raining-down the feelings of sudden silence
The passage looks dry but menstruating invisibly
Making a laborious legendary steps to his legs
'I must fight back with the pen making difference'
Urge to war the burden of shame
To create the discovery through Craft
This is the fume of the unknown.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem