Life was in my hands
But
Thus compressed
I let it off.
Life was crunched
The nights more still
And curious grew
Dusk
Became shorter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I have a young poet at POEMHUNTER I frequently communicate with. She just finished 14 poems which brings her total number of poems to 100. An exciting benchmark for a 15-year-old poet! I referred to the poems as her Summer Harvest of Fourteen Poems. You too have a Summer Harvest. B-U-T what I've read so far is quite grim. In this one Life slips from your grasp, then Life gets crushed, finally DUSK GETS SHORTER. Soon NIGHT will prevail over DAY. Where is your Poet-Seer? Send him on a Mission of Rescue.