Last word of his
was first word reached my heart
every second passing on
every hour was raindrop
loathing myself
to spend more time
But he passed on
as days on calendar
thinking of our halcyon
i was so alone
tried to reach him
no way so i cried
Yanks in the crowd
walking straight was
none in options
valiantly to fly the heaven
cross the gate to bring them back
though it was still a dream
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem