My Gazalle has shed tears before me
for some words in ire spit at her.
Joy and brimming smile she has lost
and the car-free sleep I lost for ever.
Give me some insane root to bite
and drowse for a while undisturbed.
She has clamped down lockdown
for sharing sights and bartering words.
The sun-lit world seems to me in murk
and from doing usual acts I shirk.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem