This life of mine is so bleak and desolate
In this loneliness I am a stranger to my own self
Be it so that even for an instance, my heart would forsake this lifeless gloom
Be it so that some instance, even grief would come an smilingly touch me
I implore this sadness of mine, play these games with me no more
Sleep is lost from eyes, for ages
My ecstasies are misplaced from me
Just as one forgets where it is,
After having kept something very safely
Woe this helplessness, that is suffused with such a peculiar anguish
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem