By the flooded meadow flummoxed,
on the naked eyes a noon dusk ecdising.
Looking, i looked. Clearly seeing nothing!
Such had been an unfair treat
agape glaring
this end destiny.
Among the indignant confusions,
deep in vast zip laments, a thought
meddled in my lachrymose oblivion.
A sand yatch sounding to question
stood my way.amazingly amazed.
A soundness of civilised sabotage
inscripted in the water flow down hill.
I let it drift-poor thing!
Surfing upon amputation;
from the first step to half the next
nothing was left to embalm
just a guilt to commemorate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem