Words fail me.
Oh!
It's the beauty of life.
Everyday I live, the same old life,
Yet it's all new.
Every minute is afresh,
Undescribable, curious and
Different!
People are, to such an extent changed,
Hurt...hurt and hurt is all they do.
Knowingly or unknowingly only God knows.
Past is where their present belongs.
Today is a dream and yesterday-
Their present.
I an clueless why they gift themselves pain of bygone time.
Whether I eat or live, smile or die they don't care.
All the love they shower only in words exists?
Nought a pinch of worry!
'Taken for granted' is who I am;
In the very life of those who are my life.
Love they very much to feel me hurt, as it seems.
That's the fuel for their joy.
But, pain is good, like my brother says.
This is whimsical and philosophical almost melancholy and laconic, but genuine and open to lifes riches of experience that await.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well expressed Rupika. May be you are not looking at the right people :) Happiness will manifest outside once you find the happiness within...