When your body is battered and decayed
like the torn branches in a savage storm,
when your passions are withered and fallen
like the brown leaves in Autumn,
when your moments overflow with killing loneliness
like Antarctic's snow clad mountains,
when your life is full of insufferable silence
like an anechoic chamber of Orfield Labs,
when you're above all blames and laurels
as to a born blind light and darkness,
when you're dead tired of life's long struggle
with wobbly knees, sunken cheeks with criss-cross wrinkles,
on the path of life you're an overburdened lonesome traveller,
to your sleepy soul I do promise to lend my sympathetic
shoulder!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem